The Guardian, The Ward and the Cup
by shedoc
Summary: Sequel to TG, TW and the Convict - read that one first! AU version of the Goblet of Fire
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer – property of JK Rowling. I just wanted to play with them for a bit.

AU of 'The Goblet of Fire' and sequel to my own story 'The Guardian, The Ward and the Convict'.

Warnings – Pre-Slash pairing of Harry and Ron. Snape/Harry mentor fic.

Authors Notes – the first bit is set between Harry waking in the Hospital wing after the Dementors come for Sirius and attending the Quidditch World Cup with the Weasley's – I wanted to explain a little how H/S bond changes after the Dementors. Once again, I won't be echoing the book closely, and I may skip some stuff out or reshuffle the timeline to make my own fic work (cue gasps of outrage and thrown vegetables…)

For Meggs – who has been so patient!

**The Guardian The Ward And The Cup**

Severus

There was a slight twinge in his chest and Severus sighed. He put down his book – a work of fiction no less! The boys influence was shockingly degrading! – and stood obediently, going to the new door in his private sitting room. Located between his bedroom door and the entrance to his kitchen, it had appeared without warning not long after the summer holidays commenced. Five shallow stairs were encased behind it, leading to another door that led to …

The stars were particularly bright tonight, he mused as he crossed the floor with long strides, heading for the keening boy in his nest of patched and colourful blankets. The moon was only a bare sliver in the sky – Merlin's thumbnail they had once called it – and the air was especially crisp. The most comfortable couch in Hogwarts sank slightly beneath his weight as he perched on the edge and put a hand on the messy hair black hair, all he could see of his small Ward. Any good his potions had done the boy over the last year had been erased in the aftermath of the Dementors attack at the end of the school year. The brat had lost weight and was once more struggling to regain the energy to do more than read his assignments in bed and make short trips to the bath.

Their bond had grown wildly. It had been his Legilimency alone that had been able to break Potter free of the nightmares the Dementors had instilled in the boy, and that act had allowed the boy through his Occlumency shields, forging a bond that was stronger than any Severus had ever known. In the darkest recesses of his mind, he suspected that the bond was even deeper than that of his cursed Mark. It was the bond that alerted him to Potter's night terrors and illness, something that the boy would never have done on his own. They may have been bound in a mockery of a relationship, but Potter had never once sought to trespass on Severus' good will. Aside from the shocking and accidental revelation that Potter recalled the murder of his parents when brought into proximity with a Dementor, there had been no attempt on the teen's side to forge an emotional connection with his teacher.

Severus found this very frustrating. As long as the bond was so unbalanced, Potter would continue to have night terrors. As his guardian it was Severus' duty to ensure his physical and emotional well-being. While he had no desire to dandle the brat on his knee, he certainly had no wish to see him tormented nightly by unspeakable horrors. Hence the almost nightly ritual of terror and … well, comfort was the general idea, though he had the feeling that he was falling somewhat short in that department. He had a notion that if he didn't work something out soon then the Meddling Coot of Hogwarts would call in outside help. He had absolutely _no_ intention of taking 'parenting' tips from Molly Weasley. No matter _who_ ordered it.

The boy quietened under his hand, which was progress. He hadn't had to shake, cajole or otherwise interfere with the child for at least a week. Potter recognised his touch as safety, something that had been established in the Hospital Wing immediately after the attack. He had spent several days with the boy cradled against him, his own heartbeat acting as an anchor to his distressed Ward. Not even Lupin or the Headmaster himself had been able to take his place to comfort the child, which Severus put down to the Bond and his use of Legilimency. Once fully cognizant of his actions, Potter had very properly withdrawn the contact, thanking Snape in formal words that had been jarring in their poor grammar. 'Teach the Brat to speak properly' had headed his list of Things To Do from that point on.

"Sir?" Potter's voice was cognizant, and the child turned under his touch, emerging a little from his nest. Wide green eyes met his, but the tousled head made no move to pull away, a sure signal that the contact was still necessary to the boys comfort. It was a small indignity that Snape tolerated.

"I am here, Potter," Severus confirmed, reading the relief in the green eyes without the need to resort to the mind arts. Shame swiftly followed.

"I'm sorry, sir. I disturbed you again," Potter did not sound at all steady, and Severus sighed, pulled lightly on the hair under his hand and then let go, folding his fingers together in his lap as Potter sat up. The training inculcated by the Muggles was at the root of this problem; it was insidious to a degree that was as disturbing as it was distasteful.

"It is my duty to see to you when you are disturbed," Severus reminded him, "Those useless Muggles may have accustomed you to the lowest possible standard of care required for a sentient being, but I would remind you… _again_ … that I am not they. If you are in distress then I wish to know so that it may be dealt with appropriately."

"Yes, sir," Potter sighed, "It's just that…"

The brat bit his lip and swallowed down his words, darting a small frightened glace his way. This was another behaviour that Severus resented. The boy was terrified to speak his own mind, express any opinion other than what he thought his Guardian might wish, or to reveal any of his inner desires.

"Complete your sentence," Severus commanded, knowing that his extremely small stock of patience was already stretching to its limit. Potter had been the source of this stretching, and it seemed that he was called upon to expand the small store on an almost daily basis.

"I shouldn't still be scared," Potter murmured after a long moment. Severus had no doubt that the brat would speak, it had merely been a matter if the words came before or after his patience snapped.

"I should remember that you did come when I needed you; that Sirius wasn't kissed… that Ron and Hermione weren't killed… but at night I see what might have happened…"

Judging that now was not the time for yet another variation on the 'that is why you should have listened to my instructions in the first place' lecture, Severus nodded in acceptance. He was all too familiar with the vagaries of the mind and its penchant for using sleep to play 'what if'.

"The mind is a very complex thing, Potter," he announced, "Sometimes it requires a short span of time to play out alternate possibilities to past events. In addition, the magical exhaustion makes you more prone to sleep disturbances. As your magic recovers so will the dreams fade. Until then, I will continue to check on you."

Deep in the back of Potter's eyes there was a small spark of pleasure at that last statement, proving that the brat was not as averse to Severus' presence as he had previously indicated. Severus didn't care to dwell on his response to that.

"Now lie down and sleep. Tomorrow you will resume your duties of ingredient preparation. Madam Pomfrey has agreed to allow you down to my lab on the condition that I give you sufficient rest breaks," he announced, reminding his Ward of yesterday's discussion with the resident Healer. Potter smiled happily and flopped back down into his nest.

Severus checked that the boy was adequately covered and stood, shutting the door softly behind him. If Potter was to have his birthday treat towards the end of the holidays he would need to recoup his strength. The Weasley's had insisted, and Severus had found he was not entirely opposed to the idea of watching an International Quidditch match, even in the company of red haired Gryffindors. He had yet to inform his Ward of course – he may not have been the most experienced of Guardians but even he knew that he would have Salazar's own hell to pay getting the brat to settle to anything other than his day dreams if he knew of the treat to come.

0o0o0o0


	2. Chapter 2

The potion turned a particularly vile shade of rose and gave off the stench of lavender – a scent and colour that Severus particularly hated but was the unfortunate end result for a successful brew of this particular concoction. He set his stirring rod to one side and extinguished the fire, leaving the potion to cool naturally in the cauldron. It could not be disturbed until it was stone cold all the way through or the brew would be less potent than it should, so he gathered up his implements and the empty dishes of prepared ingredients to clean and replace them in their allotted spaces.

Three steps away from the cauldron – and thus away from the all pervading stench – his sensitive nostrils caught the scent of a healing salve, one similar to that used on cuts and contusions in the hospital wing of Hogwarts. As he was not currently brewing anything of the sort he immediately turned to the corner where he'd left his Ward reading through one of his potions books after preparing the ingredients Severus had just used. This text was an advanced one, written by one of the premier brewers of the British Isles. Severus himself struggled with it terribly because the wretched man had refused to write his potions up with anything resembling accuracy. His formulaic composition was abysmally inaccurate, and Severus had never been able to manage anything but the simpler brews that closely resembled potions already in use today. Naturally, several of his 'eminent peers' couldn't even do that – it was this ability that had partially contributed to his status as the Youngest Potions Master in Europe.

Potter had the tome propped to one side, safely out of reach of the simmering cauldron. He was crushing cloves in a pestle and humming softly under his breath as he worked, stopping now and then to check the consistency of the cloves. A quick glance at the book and the cloves were swept into the cauldron, which began to bubble slightly. As it was always at this stage that Severus failed the potion, he was very surprised to see that the expected cloud of green smoke did not appear. Against all common sense, Potter left the cauldron unstirred as he turned to the mint bundle by his chopping board. He began mincing the leaves with quick efficiency, still humming absently. Once he had a pile of minced mint in front of him the boy cocked his head to one side, removed a pinch of the mint to one side and then tossed the rest in casually, finally taking up his stirring rod and giving a brisk three counter clockwise stirs. He pulled the rod out of the cauldron, watched the potion drip from the end, nodded and put the rod on a rag nearby before gathering his things to wash up, apparently unaware that his guardian was watching every move like a hawk.

Severus felt like slapping his forehead with his hand – or the nearest desk. The boy was an _intuite_. That explained his ability to master spells above his maturity level – and magic _was_ restricted by the maturity of the person casting it, else the world would have been destroyed by temperamental teething tots' eons ago – and his total inability to follow a simple potions formula. Like the master whose book Potter was brewing from, the boy sensed the ebb and flow of energy around him at a visceral level. He would not have been able to explain that to his teachers, who naturally favoured a more rigid and structured approach to the learning of magic. _Intuites_ came along every few generations to confound and discombobulate their peers and teachers, reshaping in some way the Wizarding worlds understanding of magic and its properties. They were frustrating to those who wished to emulate them, a torment to the inflexible and bloody minded and a threat to those that had established their power upon what was accepted as the natural order of things.

Severus watched as Potter drifted from his washing up to give the cauldron another three stirs, this time in a clockwise direction, before adding the pinch of mint he'd kept in reserve. There was a small poof and smoke rose from the surface of the brew in the shape of an oak tree. Potter blinked in astonishment, checked the book again and then grinned. Severus' breath caught at the look of pride on the child's face. He had thought his Ward a proud copy of the father for so many years, but this was the pride of someone who has a achieved a task they've set themselves, unsure of the outcome but willing to strive to meet it. It was a look that Severus had never seen on Potter's face before. It was one he deserved to wear.

"I have failed at that very potion no less than twenty times, Potter," Severus said quietly, and his Ward jumped before a vaguely uneasy look drifted over his face, obscuring the rightful pride that belonged there. Another by-product of the Muggles: Potter felt he should never best those who were more important than he – and importance was established through a highly skewed set of values.

"Well done, my Ward," Severus gave the boy a formal bow, "I am very pleased by your accomplishment."

"Thank you, sir," a hint of that pride crept back over Potter's face. Severus set his dirty utensils to one side and slid onto the stool opposite where Potter had been working. At his gesture Potter also sat down, a little nervous if his twitching fingers were any indication.

"Tell me, what made you decide upon attempting that particular healing brew?" Severus asked. Potter glanced at the table and then book again.

"Well, I remembered that you spent some time last summer brewing for Madame Pomfrey," the boy began in a quiet voice, uncertain tones colouring his words, "And I had all the ingredients there left from preparing for your brew, sir. You said you didn't mind my reading through the books you had to hand provided that I treated them carefully and with respect. You also said you wanted me to attempt a healing potion later on. I thought I could get a head start on it… that particular formula made sense to me based upon what I had on the table…"

"It is a much stronger version of the brew that I usually concoct for Madame Pomfrey," Severus commented, "But that is all to the good – the batch will last longer as it requires a sparing dose."

Potter nodded, though he still looked like he was waiting for the other boot to drop. Severus bit back the urge to tell the boy to grow a spine and came to the crux of the matter.

"The master that wrote the book you used did not utilise magic in the same way that the overall majority of Wizardom does," he reached out and plucked the book from where it had been propped, summoning his own brewing book from the table, "As you can see the two records of formulaic composition is radically different."

"Yours is more precise," Potter noted at once, "It's very exact, down to the smallest of steps."

"Indeed," Severus drawled, "The other is more… organic in its approach, requiring the brewer to form a relationship of sorts with the brew, sensing when enough is enough. For instance, the adding of the cloves. I have always taught that with only one exception, all classes of ingredients need the additional friction of the stirring rod to be fully utilised in an active potion. However, you chose not to stir the cloves, suspending them to a slow release that acted as a catalysing agent for the mint. The mint bonded with the cloves in the potions base, producing the correct reaction. No matter how many times I have attempted that brew, I have been unable to discover the correct timing, amount of friction or even direction of stir. I certainly would not have attempted counter stirs as everything I know of potions tells me it is contra-indicated with that combination of ingredients. Your relationship with your ingredients, your sense of the magic and forces around you allowed you to quite literally pull the correct steps out of thin air."

Potter looked as if he didn't know if he'd been insulted or complimented, the expression on his face confused and contradictory. Severus chuckled and put the two books to one side, noting that the boy definitely felt he was being insulted in light of his guardian's amusement.

"That is a compliment, Potter," he assured the boy, "People with your talent come along only once in several generations. It is called _Intuite_ – something that will make your life simultaneously harder and easier."

"That sounds like a contradiction," Potter mumbled, risking a glance to see if his guardian was angry. Severus was not: the observation was apt after all.

"It is. You will find life harder in school, as Hogwarts definitely cannot afford to teach magic in such an organic and disorganised fashion. It will be easier as you mature and begin to learn to compartmentalise your knowledge, building a framework that will allow you to fully utilise your powers as you grow into them."

"But… how can I get good marks if I can't learn the magic the way it's taught?" the faint protest was tinged with anxiety. Severus had to admit that the child was taking his studies a lot more seriously now that there was an adult to review them and punish or reward him as appropriate. His grades were improving slowly but steadily, something that also pleased Severus.

"You will have to learn how to hear the intent of the lesson behind the formula of it," Severus said simply, "It is a subtle thing, but I am well versed in the subtleties of life and will teach you the same."

"Slytherin," Potter sighed, and for a moment Severus bristled, suspecting disrespect of his House, "The Sorting Hat tried to put me in Slytherin when I first wore it. Looks like I'm going there anyway."

"Slytherin House is not synonymous with evil, Mr Potter," Severus stated firmly, "Just as Gryffindor is not synonymous with brainless heroism."

That was as close as he'd ever get to paying a compliment to the House of the Lion. From the look on Potter's face it was probably best he made no further attempts at same lest his Ward have a heart attack before he'd ever reached his majority.

0o0o0o0


	3. Chapter 3

**Harry**

Harry glared at the small gap at the bottom of the door and hobbled over to slouch in the only patch of sunlight the glorified cupboard contained. He slid his boot off and rubbed his throbbing toe for a moment, regretting the fit of temper that had led him to kicking the stones imprisoning him. It was typical of his luck that the first time Professor Snape let him out of sight – Harry had been all but told to 'go and play' – that he would run into Malfoy and his dad and end up locked in a little stone cupboard, or whatever this thing was.

Harry had passed yet another check up with Madame Pomfrey, and she had told his guardian that he could be let to participate in mild exercise without supervision. Harry had started climbing the old oak tree again, sometimes dragging a book with him to read in the leafy haven. Snape didn't seem to mind as long as he wasn't 'dangling by his feet or performing acrobatics worthy of a monkey' and Harry had discovered the joy of making friends with a tree instead of climbing it to seek shelter from bullies. He'd be up in the tree now if it weren't Sunday and Snape forbidden from entering his lab to brew. Instead Harry had been dismissed to the castle proper and courtyards, though he was not to step foot outside the front entrance into the main grounds.

He'd run into Malfoy and his dad quite by accident. He hadn't even known that the two of them were expected today and had the sneaking feeling that they weren't, because he'd have been told to stay in his room. They were about as happy to see him as he was them – which was not at all – and Mr Malfoy had forced him into the little stone cupboard and sealed it up, airily informing Harry that he'd tell someone where he was 'in the fullness of time'. Harry had a feeling that would not be for hours yet, which meant that he had an extremely rigorous lecture looming in his future. Not that he minded, it was nice to have someone care enough to tell him off fairly, even if Snape was bound to take care of him whether he wanted to or not. Harry hadn't been looking for trouble, but trouble had found him and once again Harry had come out on the losing end.

Ever since his guardian had announced that Harry was an _Intuite_, things had been different between them. Snape hadn't exactly handed him a 'defy me at your leisure' card, but he had sat Harry down and made him talk through last year. Every day for an hour they would sit and pull apart each instance of Harry's rule breaking, with Snape pressuring Harry to put clearly into words what his instincts had been telling him. His very poor vocabulary had undergone one hell of an upgrade these last few weeks as Snape taught him to 'speak like a decent wizard'. Harry couldn't wait to trot some of it out in front of Hermione and Ron – the looks on their faces would be priceless.

With each discussion, Harry had learned a lot about how his upbringing had shaped his reactions as well as how the society he now lived in worked. His ignorance had been deemed appalling at first, but only yesterday he'd been upgraded to 'abysmal' so that was progress of a sort. He was certainly learning a lot about the criteria of behaviour that someone of his rank was expected to adhere to – he'd been misunderstanding Snape for months because he hadn't known some of this stuff – and his behaviour in front of his teachers was a lot more to Snape's liking now. Harry also felt the benefit of it – they reacted better to his presence when he followed the rules of society.

Only Professor McGonagall had continued to treat him as she always did. She'd told him that fancy manners or no, he would always be a member of her House and her team Seeker, which was very comforting. He liked being a part of something, belonging. People expected the Boy Who Lived to be aloof and above it all, but Harry simply couldn't live that way. He was like Mr Tibbs, Arabella Figgs oldest cat, who was always happiest in the company of others. Mrs Figgs had more cats than Harry had ever been able to count at any one time, and many of them had been aloof and disinterested. Mr Tibbs on the other hand had preferred to be with his mistress, or Harry, if he wasn't with other cats. Harry had seen the cat often enough to note this behaviour and had come to accept it.

He wondered if Professor McGonagall liked being with other cats when she transformed. It would be amusing to find his teacher playing with the other cats in the castle, possibly chasing mice or leaves down the halls and in the courtyards. Crookshanks was a recent addition to Gryffindor, but he certainly wasn't the only feline familiar in the place. There was Mrs Norris as well, though Harry couldn't really see anyone getting close to the caretakers cat. There was something about her that made his skin creep. Filch certainly liked her a lot, if the way he'd wept over her petrified form in Harry's second year was any indication. There was no accounting for taste, Harry mused, stretching his legs and flexing his claws before settling back in his sun spot…

'Claws? Since when do I have claws?' he wondered stretching his hands out again, noting the black fur and the needle sharp claws. He frowned, twitched an ear and got up, realising that he was standing on four feet, a long tail whipping idly back and forth behind him, whiskers bristling from his face.

'I'm a bloody cat!' he realised, shifting daintily from foot to foot and then settling his balance firmly. He'd transformed himself somehow, and took advantage of the moment to slip under the door of his prison, glad to be free from the small space. He had been in no small amount of danger, being at the mercy of the Malfoy's. He carried his wand with him but was not allowed to cast any spells with it at the insistence of the school Matron.

Harry hesitated in the hall for a moment and then scampered off, looking for his guardian. Snape would not be pleased with this turn of events, but Harry knew better than to mess about with the Animagus spell, if that was what this was. Even if it wasn't, he was certainly stuck, requiring adult assistance to return to his normal shape. Although he was sure that Snape would be exasperated with him to say the least, Harry knew that his guardian would prefer it that he sought assistance immediately, rather than trying to sort things out for himself.

It was odd, knowing that there was a grown up around that would put his needs and well being first, Harry mused as he padded down a flight of stairs and across the hall towards the school library. Snape was in there researching something in the Restricted Section. He'd told Harry that was where he could be found, making it clear with his tone that he didn't want to be disturbed for anything less than an emergency. Harry figured that suddenly growing a tail and a set of claws was emergency enough.

"… of course, that wouldn't apply to anyone in _our_ House," Malfoy senior was drawling as Harry loped towards the back of the library, causing the Gryffindor to mentally curse and slow his pace. He didn't want to be anywhere near the blonde Prince of Slytherin and his father, especially not in cat form. If this truly was an animagus transformation and not some outlandish accident, the fewer people who knew about it the better.

"Naturally," Snape replied, and Harry thought privately that he sounded a bit bored. The teen hesitated for a moment and then scaled – with some difficulty and a little undignified scrabbling of the back feet – a nearby bookcase, settling into a dark gap and becoming still as the two adults stepped into view, Draco sulking along behind them with a bored expression on his face. The Headmaster was also there, a pleasantly bland expression on his own face. Harry wondered if he practised it in the mirror.

"Well, Severus, Headmaster, I must be off. Oh, I caught an intruder in the castle on my way in. He's locked up in one of the old Slytherin Keeps. You might want to see to that," Malfoy senior drawled with a smirk and jerked his hand at Draco. The teen said goodbye in an oily voice and Snape nodded back, watching them go with a smirk of his own on his face.

The moment they were gone the smirk disappeared and some very indecorous language rent the air. When the Headmaster scolded him, Harry's Guardian rounded on the elder wizard with a fierce expression.

"There's well over eight thousand bloody Keeps in the castle," Snape snarled, "You can bet all your gold in Gringott's that its Potter he ran into, and it may well be days before we find the boy!"

'I think he's worried,' Harry mused in astonishment and stood up carefully, meowing to attract attention. Snape took one look at him and started swearing again while the Headmaster chuckled and picked him off the shelf.

0o0o0o0

THAT'S THE FIRST THREE BITS – THERE IS MORE TO COME BUT DON'T PANIC IF IT TAKES A WHILE - Shedoc


	4. Chapter 4

Harry wasn't sure if it was the bond or his expression, but halfway to the Headmaster's office Snape told the older wizard to put him down. Harry certainly wasn't comfortable, part of him worried that he'd be dropped suddenly, even though he knew that was his childhood with the Muggles talking, the other worried that he'd smother to death in the old mans beard and robes first. Dumbledore put him down cautiously; evidently worried that Harry would run off. The teen shook his fur out and trotted over to Snape's feet, sitting with a bit of a thump and looking up at his guardian.

"Do not make me chase you," Snape informed Harry, to which the teen mewed in what he hoped was a 'no sir' type of tone. He loped along at Snape's heels, able to keep up much more easily in this form even though it was smaller than his human body. The revolving stairs had him tucking his tail in nervously, but he was pleased to reach the Headmasters office and its many beams of sunlight. While Snape and Dumbledore argued about what to do next Harry selected a spot on the arm of a chair and settled into it with a contented purr. Sunlight in his fur felt good and he kneaded the fabric beneath his paws happily as he settled into a comfortable position to wait for the adults to stop arguing.

"Well you're certainly not in any distress," Snape muttered as he dropped himself into Harry's chair, "You wouldn't be purring if you were in pain."

Long fingers found their way into his fur and Harry closed his eyes in bliss, the purr growing strong enough to vibrate through his entire body. Dumbledore snickered, but Harry didn't care who laughed at him as long as those fingers didn't stop. He vaguely registered that the Headmaster was moving around, and there was a whoosh that spoke of the Floo, voices and then eventually another whoosh.

"Precisely what is the problem, Albus?" his Head of House's strict tones rang in the room and Harry peeled an eye open in time to see the Headmaster point most eloquently at the armchair where Harry was perched.

"Great galloping hippogriffs, is that Mr Potter?" McGonagall sounded astounded and she came over to peer at him through her glasses. Harry opened both eyes and lifted his head as Snape's fingers withdrew, butting his head in friendly hello against the Transfiguration Mistress' fingers.

"How on earth did you manage that, Harry?" she asked, shocked out of her usual formality. Harry shrugged as best he could, mildly annoyed that people kept asking him questions when he had a mouth that was shaped for meowing, not speaking.

"Did Mr Malfoy transform you, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, and Harry shook his head very slowly and carefully. He was certain that this change was a reaction of his own magic to thinking about the cats, being stuck in a space with an exit that only a cat could use and his affinity with the species in general. His father had learned to be an animagus, and Harry had always been interested by the idea, reading what little information he could find on the process with interest. Madam Pince always kept those books in particular under close watch, lest someone try to repeat the Marauders feat and become unregistered animagus.

"Albus, you know as much about Transfiguration as I do, precisely why am I here? As remarkable as this is…" McGonagall trailed off and her eyes widened, "Oh dear. Please tell me you didn't ask me here because you thought I would be able to communicate with Mr Potter in this form. How many times, Albus, cats _don't_ have a secret language, neither do animagi!"

Harry stifled a small snicker in his paws and blinked innocently at his Headmaster when the man sent him a Look. McGonagall sighed and transformed with a small pop, leaping lightly up into Snape's lap, much to his displeasure. While his guardian muttered about cat hair on his robes and that he was a Potions Master not a pillow, Harry rubbed cheeks with his Head of House, purring once more. McGonagall sniffed him all over his head and then nuzzled him one more time before leaping lightly down, transforming back to her human self and hitting Snape with a cleaning charm and an acerbic look.

"Well, he can come down to my classroom and work on the change with me," McGonagall decided, "Best that we get him properly trained if this is an example of what his magic can do when he's merely _thinking_ about something. I'll send the boy back, one way or another, at dinner time Severus. I've an engagement this evening, but if Harry is still not human I will return tomorrow morning."

Harry was still a cat at dinner time. He had followed his Head of House down the stairs from the Headmaster office, and then followed her cat form to her classroom, scampering along in her wake, fascinated by all the scents and textures he could now detect.

Although his Head of House had done her best with him, Harry had been unable to follow her lecture on the properties of the Animagus spell. They weren't due to learn some of that stuff for another year or so, and the books that McGonagall pulled out were not very clear either. Harry had no way to ask the questions he wanted when he got lost in the explanation, which made things harder.

"Never mind, young man," McGonagall said gently when the clock struck fifteen minutes to the dinner hour. She ran her fingers over his fur gently and chucked him under the chin, "We shall try again tomorrow. If all else fails there is a spell we can use to force you out of your form, though if we have to resort to that it is likely you'll never be able to transform again. I'm sure a night of rest is all you need for now, and I'll be here directly after breakfast. Would you like Severus to accompany you tomorrow?"

Harry nodded, wondering how she'd known. She smiled and rubbed his head affectionately, garnering a soft purr for her troubles. Harry couldn't help it, there was something about being stroked that made him very happy, which resulted in a purr.

"Very well, I'll let him know. Come along then, unless you'd rather I carried you?" she stepped back when Harry flattened his ears and tucked his tail in close. She nodded as if she understood that too and maybe she did, before leading the way back to the dungeons.

0o0o0o0


	5. Chapter 5

**Severus**

The boy had not managed to return to his proper shape after four hours of instruction, to Severus' disappointment. He had of course already informed both the Headmaster and Minerva that the boy was an _Intuite_, which was certainly a factor in this new development. It was entirely possible that the boy had yet to progress far enough into his training to understand the very advanced magic that he had performed, and therefore the explanation would have been too difficult for him to master.

Minerva's statement that Potter had requested his presence on the morrow spoke well for the guardian bond and the boy's appreciation of the care that Severus was giving him. In fact, the boy had come to Severus' side the moment he'd freed himself from the Keep, rather than getting into mischief or messing about with magic that was well beyond his ken, which was another point in his favour. Had Severus known his former classmate was going to be in the castle, he'd have made sure the boy was confined to his room. Now that one of his former associates knew of Potter's summer residence extra precautions would have to be taken. If Potter could master the animagus spell he would have another defence against unwelcome attentions.

He fed Potter fish and milk, then set a cushion from the boy's bed before his hearth, indicating with a wave of the hand that the child was to settle himself upon the cushion. Severus settled into his own armchair, book in hand, and resumed his Sunday evening ritual of reading with a glass of wine to hand. Potter seemed happy enough to doze off in the warmth of the small fire, for the small cat form didn't move once it had settled into a comfortable position. It wasn't until he decided to retire for the evening that the small cat stirred, unwinding itself and stretching before fixing bright green eyes on his face.

Severus tilted his head, intending to inform the brat that he would be sleeping here tonight when there was a distinct touch at the edge of his mental defences. He frowned and the touch became a firm pressure. There was sorrow there, apology and a strong desire to be better.

With a gasp the Potion Master of Hogwarts tore himself from the wild Legilimency and staggered back, falling in a very undignified heap on his arse. There was a black blur as the Cat Who Lived fled from its spot by the warm fire. Severus could almost smell the fear as he ran past.

His first reaction was undiluted fury. Just when he had thought that the boy was becoming a tolerable intrusion on his life, the unspeakable little horror pulled a stunt like this! To attempt to breach his mental defences, using the Bond itself…

Shock stopped him cold. The Bond could not be used in such a way. Potter had not abused it. In a flash his mind was turning over and discarding theory after premise. It seemed that the boy had taken note of more than just his use of Legilimency in the past months – he had also learned to reproduce the effect for himself…

Upon reflection that was unlikely. The boy was in no position to communicate in his current state and had been trained by the Muggles to a level of fearful obedience that was most disquieting. He was currently disobeying his teachers by remaining a cat and unable to apologise for doing so. That plus his status as _Intuite_ had led him to the Legilimency probe.

Severus sighed. If he was being honest, the boy had pulled quite a feat with his attempt. He hadn't breached Severus shields, instead forming just enough contact to send across vague impressions. There had been no real breach of privacy after all. Of course he would need to train the boy properly lest he attempt it with one of his peers. That could get them both into deep water, provided they didn't die of the shock.

"Potter, come here," Severus called into the seemingly empty living space. He knew the cat wouldn't have gone far, not because it couldn't but because Potter would have stuck around to see that he was unharmed. His altruistic tendencies were so unfortunately well established that he would never leave his guardian if there was a chance he had hurt the man whilst alone in the dungeons.

There was a slow stirring in the shadows, then the small cat crept from its hiding place behind his bookcase. The boy inched forward, braced for a hex or a kick. Severus could, grudgingly, admit that it took courage in his current state to expose himself to the possible physical repercussions of his actions. The cat would not be able to defend himself from any attack.

Severus leaned down and picked the cat up, placing it delicately in his lap. Beyond shifting to keep its balance, the cat didn't move, hunched in his lap and shivering quite badly.

"Potter," he waited for the cat to look up and was quite disappointed when his ward did not, "Harry, look at me."

The cat did so slowly and Severus initiated a link between them. He was almost swept away by the wave of terror, sorrow, apology and outright panic. He kept himself intact and transmitted calm, soothing the flashpoints and easing the worst of the harsh emotions. Severus stroked a finger lightly over Harry's ear and head, remembering how the boy had relaxed under such a touch earlier this evening.

"Harry, I was angry that you would attempt to make such a link with me without my permission," only the truth would suffice here, with them so linked, "However that was only my instinctive reaction. Upon reflection I cannot help but be pleased that you were able to take the concept of forming such a link and reverse your experience to repeat that link with me. You did it without injuring either one of us and without truly invading my privacy. Of course, now that you have discovered the trick of it we will need to spend some time in training you … but we will decide upon that later."

Harry continued to tremble in his grasp, but the fear was mostly gone. Severus broke the link and spent some time stroking his wards' fur, waiting patiently until the tremors had stopped. It took some time.

0o0o0o0


	6. Chapter 6

The brew turned a lovely deep puce and Severus stood back, satisfied that this particular batch had come out well. He glanced over at his ward, seated as always by the window, studying away diligently and quirked an eyebrow. Even in human form – and the mastery of his animagus transformation had been a hard fought battle for Potter – he still resembled a cat. The boy did not have fur or an extra appendage, his mastery was complete, which was to be expected when McGonagall tutored someone extensively in her area of expertise. It was more the way the child curled both legs beneath him on the small stool, the curve of his spine and the idle way the quill in his hand twitched back and forth. Had he been in the form of Caecus – the name Severus had bestowed on him when McGonagall had explained that most people named their forms and the boy had requested his Guardian's assistance – the boy's tail would have been twitching even as his ears and whiskers pointed forward in interest. Caecus was Latin, of course, and McGonagall had not at all approved of her student being named 'Dark'. Potter liked it well enough if the cheeky grin he had aimed at his Head of House was any indicator.

"Potter, it will soon be time for lunch," Severus reminded his ward. Really, you'd think the brat would be more interested in his meals given the lack of anything resembling regular nourishment in his summers past, "Have you completed the reading I assigned you?"

"Yes, sir," Potter looked up, blinking behind the ridiculous glasses. The next time they broke Severus would have them replaced with something better, or know the reason why, "Though I think I've not completely understood some of the material."

"We will discuss it before we begin the lesson," Severus replied calmly, noting that though the boy had been afraid to make the admission he had at least the sense to know that his guardian would be much angrier if he went unprepared into an occulmency/legilimency lesson.

Potter had learned manners when contacting another's mind, the perils of attacking a well defended one and had begun to develop the barest rudimentary elements of control during their lessons. He could not repel Severus' touches as yet, nor could he breach his guardian's defences past the point that Severus permitted. Potter had only tried that once, at his guardian's suggestion: the attack had been unfocussed and fearful, completely ineffective. It would not do at all, so Severus had begun priming the boy to focus carefully. If they were going to be engaged in this area of study then the brat would be a credit to him – as was expected in all other areas.

The lesson was tiring and Potter seemed relieved to be sent to his room to wash and change for dinner. As had become their custom, they ate together in Severus quarters of an evening before the child was dismissed to his own devices. Potter had learned to conduct a semi-intelligent conversation, his observations and guileless questions sending them off on unexpected tangents. Severus had learned to see when the boy was being disingenuous, which happened so rarely that he could barely be brought to mind the odd little importunities the boy had practiced. There was a line that he knew Potter would never cross – the boy was scrupulous to avoid the boundaries at all costs.

In two days time it would be the brat's birthday. Last year he had gifted the boy with a watch, which he had been pleased to see accompanied the child everywhere he went, with the exception of Quidditch practices and games. This year he had a different gift in mind; something that his family had done to commemorate this particular anniversary for each child. Said gift was currently in the safe keeping of Dizzy, the only elf he could tolerate in the entire castle. He knew well the vagaries of children when it came to presents, after all Draco Malfoy had made it his sole ambition to seek out and sample every gift that ever entered the family mansion – until Lucius had left a deliberately hexed parcel for the boy to find. That little episode had cured him of his curious ways.

It had made Severus glad that his own curiosity had been more subtle – his father would certainly never think twice about a serious punishment for any small infraction of the Rules. He had been lucky to even receive the traditional Fourteenth Gift, certainly he had been shocked into betraying a bit more emotion than had been politic in front of his father. In the solitude of his quarters, Severus wondered what the boy's reaction would be.

0o0o0o0


	7. Chapter 7

**Harry**

"Pardon?" Harry looked down at the beaming house elf, not entirely sure he'd heard correctly. The smile on the little green beings face was rapidly fading and he made an effort to smile and get down onto its level.

"Happy Birthday Harry Potter," the little thing whispered and Harry smiled, settled comfortably onto the floor and held out a hand, which the elf very nervously shook. When no blows came its way the tea-towel clad being stood straight again, to his relief.

"Thank you," he replied and cast about for something else to calm the little thing who had personally delivered his breakfast today, "You bought my watch for me last year, didn't you?"

"It is Master Snape who is buying the watch. Dizzy is just fetching it," Dizzy corrected him firmly, looking shocked that anyone would mistake Master Snape's actions for that of a house elf. Harry grinned. Snape was skinny as a house elf, but way too tall to be one.

"Well thanks for fetching it last year. It was my birthday then too," he told the elf, who nodded as if it had already known that. Harry wondered if Snape had put more thought into the timing of the gift than Harry had first thought, then put that aside for another time. He only saw house elves when there was a message to be delivered to him: come to think of it, he mostly saw Dizzy.

"Master Snape wishes to see Harry Potter after his breakfast in his sitting room," Dizzy informed him, "You is to go there directly."

"Thanks, Dizzy," Harry nodded and the little elf popped away. Shaking his head, Harry got up and attacked his breakfast. It was not normal for him to be summoned to Snape's quarters in the morning – usually he went to the room where Snape brewed, waiting outside it until his Professor arrived, or closing the door behind him if he was last to arrive.

Harry paid a bit more attention to his clothes today, wondering if Snape was going to tell him off for not taking care of them or something. They still fit him, mostly because of a charm that had been built into the fabric that was designed to expand as he did. He'd grown some over the last year, which he put down to his very first summer eating three meals a day, every day.

When Harry pushed the door at the bottom of their connecting stair open, Snape was seated in his usual chair by the fireplace, which wasn't lit. Harry came in properly and shut the door, having noticed that his guardian didn't like it when he hovered, before offering a quiet 'good morning' to the man. He wondered vaguely what Snape would look like dressed in anything other than the black robes he always wore, but pulled his mind back to the present when his guardian wished him a happy birthday in a quiet, neutral voice.

"Thank you sir," Harry smiled. Snape was probably the first adult he could remember wishing him a happy birthday on his actual birthday. Mostly Mrs Weasley didn't see him on that day, and she and her husband were the only two he could think of that would be likely to do so. The Dursley's never had.

"There is a gift for you," Snape sounded awkward, like he hadn't given many, and that reassured Harry in an odd sort of way. His Guardian didn't know what was the normal thing in this situation either, which meant that neither of them could do or say something wrong. Harry grinned and went to the small table beside the arm chair he had sat in on the occasions that he'd been a guest in these quarters.

The gift was not large, and wrapped in brown paper. Harry touched it carefully to see if it was safe to pick up – he'd had experience with Hagrid's idea of gifts and a biting book had certainly set the standard – then pulled it into his lap, undoing the twine that held the neatly creased brown paper in place.

Inside the paper, which Harry put to one side rather than throwing it on the floor, was a heavy leather book. It looked very old if the faded condition of the cover was anything to go by and the gold leaf on the page edges had flaked away in one or two places. The cover read '_The Nature of Life_' in plain, unadorned letters. Harry had seen it on Snape's shelves.

Curious, Harry opened the cover carefully, not wanting to risk hurting the old book. Antiques were to be treated with respect, he knew that much, and while receiving an old book from someone's shelves might not be everyones idea of a great present, he appreciated that Snape had chosen to give him something that had once belonged to the man. Snape took meticulous care of his possessions, so the fact that he was entrusting one of them to Harry meant quite a lot.

Curious about what the book covered, Harry ran his fingers carefully over the cover. He'd learnt that some publishers liked to secret things with charms and other such spells woven into the very bindings of the book that they were selling. Unlike Muggle books, there was no dust jacket or picture of the author; nor was there a blurb. The leather binding the book was worn where other peoples fingers had held it over the years, giving Harry a sense of being linked to the past. Inside on the flyleaf there was one inscription. It was quite old and faded, written in copperplate writing, but Harry could read it quite clearly.

'_To my son on his fourteenth birthday.'_ The date below it was nearly a hundred and fifty years ago, so this book had been passed down by Snape's family for quite some time. That alone made Harry appreciate the gift even more. If it hadn't been Snape the anti-hug sitting in front of him Harry would have thrown his arms around the man, much as he would have with Remus or Mr Weasley should either man ever gift him with a family heirloom. As it was he knew better than to try it and so he stood, clasped the book to his chest and gave his guardian a heartfelt formal bow of thanks.

0o0o0o0


	8. Chapter 8

He sat up with a gasp, his mind whirling. One hand slapped against his scar, pressing in an effort to relieve the pain there, the other latched onto the sleeve of his Guardian's dressing gown. Harry no longer felt astonishment that Snape was there when he needed him, not after all the times this summer that his Guardian had woken him from nightmares about the Dementors. Strong fingers covered his for a moment and then Snape was prising his hand away from his scar, brushing his hair back to look at it more closely.

It was all Harry could do not to turn away from the scrutiny. He'd never been comfortable with the amount of attention it got – his Aunt and Uncle had taught him from a very early age that it was hideous and unseemly. Wizards and Witches alike had used it as an excuse to peer at him like he was a freak in a zoo. Even Snape judged him because of it.

"Potter?" Snape's dark voice helped quell some of Harry's unconscious shivers but it didn't ease the pain, nor did the long finger currently pressed against the scar.

"He's dead!" Harry blurted, the jumbled and horrid images flashing past his minds eye with a lack of focus that was as frustrating as it was worrying, "A madman was there, and a snake and someone wanted me… then… he was killed!"

"Who?" the crisp question jolted through the images Harry was trying to focus on, scattering them irrevocably. Harry jumped and Snapes' finger slid away from his scar. He reached up and scrubbed at it irritably, aiming the scowl he felt on his face at the blankets over his legs. Snape wouldn't like being scowled at.

"I don't know!" he muttered, "It's all a jumble…"

"Very well," Snape sighed heavily and Harry risked peeking at his Guardian. The man didn't seem to be too annoyed with him, but the teen didn't want to push it. What with turning into a cat and then using the mind arts on his Guardian With-Out-Permission, Harry had already strained the man's tolerance to its short limits.

"I'm sorry sir," after all this time, he still he felt it important to apologise, "I didn't mean to wake you."

Even though he knew it had been the Bond that woke Snape, not Harry. Harry could still not concieve of anything that would make him wake his Guadian from his nights rest. Only an emergency of the first order – like a threat to the school or Snape himself – would urge Harry to wake the man; he certainly didn't think that his nightmares or scar pain were worth it.

"I will not repeat myself, Potter. You know my feelings on this matter," Snape replied dryly and Harry nodded. He just couldn't quite bring himself to believe the man.

"Has your scar hurt in this manner before?" Snape asked and Harry nodded, glancing around at the comfortable room of broken furniture that Snape had once called his 'nest'. The man hadn't known that Harry could hear him at the time and the teen thought it a very apt description. After all, he and Hedwig both 'roosted' here in the summer. Nothing was out of place, so Harry knew that his next words were no cause for alarm.

"It hurts when Vol… You Know Who is close. It did all the way through my first year, when he was near me," Harry tilted his head back when Snape's fingers took hold of his chin, the mans other hand brushing his hair back for a proper look. The fact that the man didn't even glance around to check that they were safe was quite comforting really.

"The Dark Lord was last reported abroad," Snape replied coolly, "Though the report was slightly out of date. The scar is slightly inflamed… someone was killed you say? Who? And where?"

"Um… I think it was a Muggle," Harry bit his lip, "An old man… in a house somewhere, but the house wasn't his – it was a bit of a wreck."

"Very well," Snape nodded and stroked Harry's fringe back over the scar before letting go, "It would be well if you remembered to bring up your mental shields, such as they are, before going to sleep. If the Dark Lord has indeed returned to England, you will be vulnerable while you sleep. I don't want to potion you."

"Yes sir," Harry lay down and Snape pulled the blankets over him absently, watching as Harry settled into the breathing pattern that they had discovered helped him to focus better when beginning an Occulmency exercise. It was a bit like purring in a way, and he felt the edges of sleep begin to tug at him once more as he focussed on the walls that his Guardian was teaching him to build and maintain.

Snape was still sitting there as his eyes closed and he fell asleep.

0o0o0o0


	9. Chapter 9

Snape was being very secretive. Harry knew there was something going on: from Snape's demeanour it was not a Bad Thing either, for all his Guardian was playing the long-suffering martyr. He had simply been told to be dressed in Muggle attire – which had been supplied for him by Dizzy only this morning and had comprised of neat trousers, a long sleeved tshirt and a jacket. His boots had been deemed Muggle enough and he had clipped his watch carefully to his inner jacket pocket. Muggles did still use pocket watches, so Harry figured that his would merely be seen as an affectation instead of a talking point.

Snape in Muggle clothes was a mind boggling sight. He wore his hair as usual of course, but had chosen to wear a dark grey two piece suit and green shirt with no tie. He also wore what could only be described as a black trench coat, the closest thing the man could get to his usual robes. He also retained his own boots, though the trousers were long enough in the leg to hide the buttons on the side.

"Well?" the sharp voice reminded Harry not to stare, but the question was clear to him. After all this time Harry was beginning to understand that the man had layers to his questions – he even occasionally picked the right layer to answer.

"You look appropriately Muggle, sir," he replied, and refrained from any further wondering looks. Snape nodded once and swept off along the corridor, heading for the Headmasters office. Harry fell into step behind, contemplating changing into cat form, the better to keep up.

"You have your wand?" Snape tossed the question over his shoulder, his pace neither breaking or slowing.

"Yes sir," Harry replied. He got a grunt in response, but it didn't sound like a disapproving one, so he didn't worry too much about it. He'd learned that he had the habit of over-answering questions when nervous, so the many reassurances that he would not use it, that he would keep it concealed et cetera were swallowed down.

The Headmasters gargoyle apparently saw them coming and felt that it wasn't up to dealing with a Muggle-impersonating Snape, because it moved aside without waiting for a verbal cue. Snape snorted and stepped onto the revolving stairs, tapping his foot impatiently. He squared his shoulders as the Headmasters door hove into view and Harry realised that his Guardian was _nervous_. Given the Headmaster's penchant for teasing people, well meaning though it was, Harry began to understand the tension in the slender frame in front of him.

"Ah, Severus!" Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling so madly it was a miracle the Headmaster wasn't blinded, "You do look smart! Quite the Muggle."

"Thank you, Headmaster," Snape gritted and Harry kept his eyes firmly on the carpet in front of him. He didn't want to add to the Potion Masters embarrassment by grinning, or even worse, encouraging the Headmaster to include him in this latest round of tease-the-Snape.

"And are you ready Harry? I expect you're eager to be off?" the Headmaster asked, fortunately abandoning his game. Before Harry could do more than frown, Snape interrupted, his voice that silky smooth tone that Harry had learned prefaced either a nasty lecture or a shocking bit of information.

"Mr Potter is not yet informed of our destination," the Potions Master gestured for Harry to come and stand beside him, picking up an old cassette tape of Muggle music and gesturing for Harry to hold onto a corner, "He will be told in the fullness of time."

Harry took the plastic corner pointed at him, reflecting that Wizards had odd ways to travel – because there was no reason other than transport for such an object to be in the Headmaster's office, let alone for Snape to be holding it. The faded letters on the cover read 'Mozarts Best Works' and there was a picture of a stag in a forrest. Harry vaguely recalled that Mozart was a Muggle composer of classical music – he'd once had a teacher at his primary school who had played it to the class on rainy days.

"This is a portkey, Potter, albiet an illegal one," Snape as usual knew what he was thinking, which was a comfort and a curse because Harry knew that at times he seemed Terribly Amusing to his teacher. He wondered why Snape didn't just alter the spells on the amulet that Harry continued to wear around his neck, then realised that doing so would take away one of the ways that Snape liked to keep Harry safe. It was odd that the fact that his teacher could send him to his room at the drop of a wand was so comforting, but Harry was glad that there was someone around that took care of him, "As there is no other way to reach our intended destination we shall have to bear with the inconvenience. It will activate in thirty seconds precisely, which gives me enough time to inform you that I expect you not to leave my side for an instant when we reach our destination, no matter how fascinating you find it, and we will not be staying once it is over, no matter how late the thing ends. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir," Harry replied, then a hook lodged itself in his stomach and dragged him out of the Headmasters office, spinning him about and dropping him on his face in a sprawl. Snape remained upright of course. Harry was too embarrassed to look up as he clambered back to his feet, but then their arrival point caught his attention and swept away all other considerations.

They were in a small, oddly shaped sitting room with canvas walls. There was a distinct smell of cats in the air, which made Harry's hackles raise slightly, and something that looked very much like Hermione's school bag leaning in one of the chairs.

"We are in a Muggle field, which has been rented out to a large number of Wizards for the purpose of providing them with a place to camp after they have watched the World Cup," Snape folded his arms fussily, "Hence the ridiculous outfits, the cat scented tent – and believe me, you are not the only one offended by the smell – and the need for secrecy. The stadium has been some months in the building of it, and is layered with various security spells, including anti-Muggle charms."

"The World Cup?" Harry asked, ackowledging the other information with a nod. Snape was evidently Doing Something Nice, which meant that if Harry wanted to spend a pleasant time with his Guardian he would not refer to it in any way shape or form. That Something evidently included Hermione, which meant there was a good chance that Ron and the rest of the Weasley's were somewhere around as well. He hadn't had much contact with his friends this year – they needed to keep his summer location a secret, so sending mail wasn't an easy task.

"Quidditch, Mr Potter. The final match of the World Cup, Ireland versus Bulgaria to be exact, is being played in a specially constructed stadium not far from here. You and I are to attend, courtesy of Mr Weasely and his Ministry contacts. I believe that your fellow Gryffindors are also to be present," Snape drawled, sounding incredibly bored by the whole thing. Harry wasn't fooled – he'd seen Snape watch the Quidditch at school. He beamed at his Guardian and gave the man the second heartfelt bow of the holidays.

"Well, we are to meet the Weasley's in a few moments time," Snape said gruffly, inclining his head in reply, "Mind what I said, Potter. You are to remain at my side at all times. We are _not_ staying the night, no matter what little plans you and your friends hatch."

"Thank you, sir," Harry nodded vehemently and followed his Guardian to the doorway and out into the experience of a lifetime.

0o0o0o0


	10. Chapter 10

**Severus**

It was for the best that they had not stayed at the World Cup, Severus mused as he watched the returning students filter out of the Great Hall on their way to bed. His former comrades had made a terrible spectacle of themselves, something that confirmed his and Albus' fears that the Dark Lord had returned to his home soil. The chaos among those that had remained encamped for the evening had also been considerable; given Potter's tendancy to attract trouble his Ward had been better off out of it.

The coming year was likely to be… interesting. They had not held the Tri-Wizards cup for some time and there were several students currently in the school who would make excellent Champions. He would, of course, encourage select members of his own House to participate, at the same time as keeping an eagle eye on Potter.

Speaking of which… the Brat was wandering towards his House, Weasley and Granger firmly in tow. All around him the students were discussing who would or would not enter into the Tournament and who they thought would be the best Champion for Hogwarts. One or two even mentioned his Ward in that context and Severus sped his steps subtly to bring himself in the boys range with the firm intention of squashing that notion out of Potters head before it could take root.

"… what do you think, Harry? It would be mad fun to enter!" Weasley was saying as they passed the pool of shadows where he lurked.

"No thanks," Potter spoke over Granger's citation of the rule and regulations with the ease of one long accustomed to stemming her verbal flow, "I'll be watching safely from the sidelines, Ron. You heard the Professor – people have died competing in this tournament. Besides, the students that are eligible have had heaps more schooling than we have – they'll know loads more spells to keep them safe. You couldn't pay me to enter."

Shocking news indeed. Two years ago Severus would have assumed that this was just the sort of event that Potter would try to enter – he had thought the boy an attention seeking glory hound. He knew better now, and was pleased to hear it from the boys own lips; though he also knew that his Ward had a way of attracting trouble to himself. Severus was _almost_ tempted to cast the Fates and see what particular auspices the boy had been born under, such was his affinity with strife.

He had watched with some misgiving as Mad Eye Moody stumped off along the corridor. Albus was surely mad to let the man anywhere near children. However there was no way that Lupin would be returning to his previous post – the mangy wolf was looking after the mutt, supervising his stay in St Mungo's as only a guilt-ridden friend could. Severus had mentally wished him the joy of it and made a mental note to ensure that Moody had as little to do with his Ward as possible outside of class time. Moody had a very low opinion of Severus Snape, Death Eater and Potions Master to the Dark Lord. They had crossed paths before with Severus the victor, to Moody's chagrin. He didn't need his Ward's mind to be poisoned against him by the paranoid ex-Auror – to have all of the hard work that they had both put into their rapport over the summer wiped away in one bitter rant.

Of course to warn the boy or the nutter off would ensure that they would seek each other out. Severus watched as Potter entered his common room and turned with a sigh for his own House. This year was sure to be a trying one.

0o0o0o0


	11. Chapter 11

**Harry**

Harry shot a grin at Ron as they settled into the front row of the class. This was to be their first Defence lesson – and after hearing all the older students praise and admire their new Professor, he was eager to see if the man lived up to his reputation. Hermione settled in the seat beside the two of them and Harry got to the business of pulling his books and parchment out so he'd be ready.

He had been more than worried when he'd woken the day after the World Cup and heard about the events after the cup. He'd had such a brilliant time with Ron, Hermione and the rest of the Weasley family, not to mention his Guardian. He'd had no idea that the Wizarding world had such a wide and diverse culture – which had been a bit naive of him in a way. He'd really enjoyed seeing all the differences in the world that he'd come to – his refuge from the Dursleys. Snape had sat him down and explained in a low voice who the men in masks had been and what was likely to happen next. He'd also explained that he'd contacted the Burrow and that 'the Weasley's and Granger had not been hurt, Potter, so calm yourself'.

It had been another of those small acts that had given Harry another reason to relax into the trust he had spent the summer building with Snape.

The door slammed open, pulling Harry's thoughts back to the classroom and he watched his teacher stump into the room. They put their books away when the teacher told them to and he watched as Moody made his mark on the class, catching his classmates in the usual small acts of truancy that occurred when they were trying out a new teacher. The idea that the man was wearing an eye that could see through things: bone, wood, stone… a handy tool for mischief, but he didn't think that Moody had replaced his real eye for the sake of playing pranks.

Then the lesson turned from one that was interesting to one that was horrifying. Harry would never admit it to anyone, but the idea that there were spells classed as Unforgivable was as frightening as the idea that Muggles could annihlate cities with a nuclear bomb. The first spell, _Imperious_ wasn't too bad, though the air had a slippery feel to it afterwards. Ron was faintly green and Hermione positively radiating her disapproval of the whole thing from where she sat, though Harry was fairly sure it was the spiders and rule breaking that was upsetting them the most respectively. He shifted a little closer to Ron as the second spider was enlarged and together they flinched when the spider began to twitch and quiver under the _Cruciatus_. Hermione's shrill demand that Moody stop, drawing attention to Neville's sickened horror distracted Harry for a moment, but the slippery tang in the air was even worse.

Then Hermione admitted to knowing the name of the last Unforgivable Curse. Harry knew it was coming, he'd seen it in his nightmares when the Dementors got too close, he knew what it looked like, what it did and what the aftermath felt like.

The green rush of sick light cut the life out of the hapless spider as if someone had cut the strings of a puppet. Ron flinched beside him, but Harry's stomach turned. His mouth flooded with sour saliva, he was devilishly hot and icily cold simultaneously and his skin tingled unpleasantly. His scar pulsed like a brand upon his forehead, pain cleaving through his head and all the way down his spine.

"There's only one person to ever have survived that curse, and he's sitting in this room," Moody turned in Harry's direction and he twisted in his seat sharply, needing to avoid that glare, needing to _get away_ and there was a sharp crack, a squeezing sensation and then the classroom went away. When his vision cleared he could see the toilet bowl from his bathroom-in-the-attic which was a good thing as he was coughing up every meal he'd ever eaten in his life while the room swooped and spun around him.

There was a noise, then black, then warmth, then arms curling around his back, holding him steady until the illness stopped. Strong arms pulled him against a narrow chest and he clutched the black material tightly and waited for the world to make sense.

0o0o0o0


	12. Chapter 12

**Severus**

Moody was definitely winning in the 'popularity' stakes this year. Not that Snape ever bothered to compete – he was not there to be liked, he was there to educate the useless brats whether they wanted to learn or not. Dumbledore liked that his teachers were well thought of, which meant that Snape had yet another way to be a blot on the smug old mans copybook.

On the first Thursday of term, Potter was to have his first lesson with Moody. Snape had watched his Ward from the dinner table of the Great Hall, as well as in class, and was pleased to see that Potter was settling quickly to the idea that he was in school to work. He'd even found the boy in the Library on Wednesday night, ignoring Grangers latest fad about the house elves that served Hogwarts in favour of researching his charms work.

Potter's first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson co-incided with the NEWTS class Potions. They had been given the syllabus for the year and he was in mid flow about the expectations he had for the students when the first twinge registered in his chest. Potter was distressed. Significantly distressed.

Swallowing the urge to swear violently and run from the room in search of his Ward, Snape waved his wand at the board and the first research task of the year appeared.

"Copy it, then begin it," he said curtly and then glared at them to get them going. Luckily it was Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff – one lot that would be eager to get going and one lot that were obedient to a fault.

The second twinge had his hands closing into white knuckled fists that he hid carefully in the folds of his robe. The Ravenclaws were beginning to pack it in and leave. The Hufflepuffs could be left if needed… the Diggory boy would probably be worthy of trust for a limited time…

The third twinge was more like a dagger to the heart, which had him running from the room, heading not for the classroom that Moody used, but for the boy's rooms. How the child had got there so quickly was not something he cared about right now – it was a mystery for later.

Potter was retching violently in the bathroom. He was almost transparent with shock – Severus' not inconsiderable instincts came to the fore, making him want to eliminate the threat to his Ward instantly. He mastered himself only with difficulty, knowing that if he left Potter now the boy could slip into unconsciousness, leading to life threatening complications.

It was a moments work to gather the boy in his arms, something that eased the tension in his chest a little, the bond working to ensure that the vulnerable half of their odd little dynamic – and Severus could no longer deny in the face of his own rage that it was not just the Bond that tied him to Potter now – was safe. When the boy finished retching he applied some gentle charms and gathered him close, pleased that the child knew he was safe when he curled closer of his own accord, latching cold hands into his robes and seeking the warmth of his chest.

A small levitation spell helped him lift the gangling form of his Ward – the child might be small for his age, but he was rapidly gaining lost ground – allowing Severus to seek the most comfortable couch in Hogwarts, knowing the boy would sense he was in a place that he knew to be safe. He arranged them on the childs nest, pulling several quilts over them to add to the warmth of the bond and waited grimly. He had no doubt that the events that had led to Potter's strong reaction in the classroom with Moody were being reported to those that should know; as would his unexplained and unprecedented dash from the potions lab. The Headmaster would arrive sooner or later; Severus would be expecting answers.

0o0o0o0


	13. Chapter 13

**AN – please don't complain about the length of the chapters. They are what they are. If it's such an issue, I can always pull the fic.**

**Also – I'm about to disappear for a bit, so here's something to tide you over.**

**Snape**

Dumbledore arrived in due time. Potter was quiescent in Severus' grip now, mostly still save the odd shiver that would wrack the boy. The snake above the door swelled to life and hissed, eliciting a responsive hiss from the brat, but when the snake returned to its inactive state Potter also subsided into stillness. A cautious peek showed him to be almost asleep, leading Severus to believe that he was dealing with a mild case of magical overextension in his Ward once again. This tendancy of his Ward to drain himself dangerously while performing magic was something that Snape would have to address soon – it was becoming a distressing habit that needed to be stopped.

"Ah, Severus, I thought I would find you here," the old coot looked quite concerned, the avulncular air that he liked to affect quite absent for a change. Severus cranked his glare up several more notches and pointed at the vacant armchair with silent command.

"And so?" he asked in a voice no less vicious for its soft tone. He wasn't going to put up with any glossing over of facts, nor any excuse making.

"Perhaps you remember that Alastor and I discussed the need to ensure the children were well prepared to withstand the eventual return of Lord Voldemort and the boundaries I expected him to stay within," Albus prevaricated for a moment. Severus raised an impatient eyebrow and sniffed, not at all caring for the hedging he could sense going on. Potter tensed slightly, which showed he was at least following the conversation being held over his head.

"I do," Severus' tone more than expressed his opinion on that discussion. He and McGonagall had been very vocal on the need to limit the spells discussed, lest the students be tempted to research of their own. It was not unheard of for the two of them to agree on matters of curriculum – it was discipline that they disagreed most violently over.

"Alastor took his instructions a little too… literally. We discussed the matter of the Unforgivables, and that the fourth years and over could be exposed to the concept of them. I had not anticipated him demonstrating them in front of the class. Harry withstood witnessing the lesser two of the three, but the final…"

"The Killing Curse," Severus tightened his grip on his Ward quite unconsciously, "You exposed my Ward to the _Killing Curse as part of his daily instruction?_"

His voice was raised by the end of the sentence and it was this that prompted Potter to finally move within his grip, a hand patting him soothingly on the chest, the action hidden by the quilts he'd bundled the boy in to counteract the shock. That the child would make an effort to comfort him was disconcerting enough to make him pause in surprise which was just long enough to let the old coot take control of the situation again.

"Apparently Harry apparated, through the castle wards no less, away from the classroom to avoid the backwash of the spell," Dumbledore looked properly impressed at the feat, as well he should. It was a commonly promoted myth that apparation was impossible within the school – the Headmaster did it all the time, as could key teachers, provided they had been linked into the school wards. The myth was promoted to prevent others from trying it – lazy students could cause a terrible accident if they were allowed to apparate at will, and parents would be popping in and out all the time if they thought it was at all warranted. It was a security and safety issue, one that Severus approved of. As he was one of the few keyed into the wards, he had always been one of the myths biggest supporters.

"I see," Severus sighed, "Potter, are you awake?"

He knew the boy was, but also knew that there were times when Harry preferred not to deal with the Headmaster, especially after an 'incident'. Those occurred with worrying frequency.

"Yes sir," Potter sat up slowly, moving from Severus' arms to the couch, though he kept the quilts wrapped tightly around him and leant slightly into Severus' side. Severus showed his approval of this by not moving away and twitching the folds of the topmost quilt closer around the boys frame.

"Explain what happened," Snape ordered, watching with hidden approval as the child processed his tone and actions and came to the correct conclusion about his Guardians request.

"The air in the classroom was… tainted … it was quite slippery and oily. I've always associated that taint with the Dark Arts – proper Dark Arts, not the minor ones – and I was finding it harder to breathe in the slippery air. When Professor Moody came towards me after casting the Killing Curse, it was like a wave of sickness washing over me. I twisted in my seat to get away from it and ended up in the bathroom. It was like the world melted around me, squeezed me inwards and then spat me out. I'm not sure if the nausea that followed was a result of the spells or the squeezing. My scar was blazing too – like it did when Quirrell was up to something in first year."

"Oh dear," Albus murmured even as Snape frowned and tried to work out what his Ward meant by that comment.

"Professor Quirrell had Voldemort stuck in the back of his head. My scar hurt when I was near him or Voldemort was angry," Potter had apparently picked up on his confusion and offered the appalling knowledge as if it was the most natural thing in the world. True, he hadn't been Severus' Ward at the time, but the knowledge that the Dark Lord had wandered through the castle at will, controlling a teacher with free access to Potter no less, turned Severus' stomach. He'd always had a vague idea that the events surrounding the Philosophers Stone had involved another Witch or Wizard, one that had intimidated Quirrell into helping them, "I killed him when he touched me… he disintigrated because of my mum and her love."

That sounded like one of Albus' battier theories. Severus let it stand, not wanting to burden the boy with the knowledge that the death of his teacher was more probably due to his own magic getting loose to defend him. Making a mental note to extract the full details of _that_ situation from Albus later, Severus pinned the Headmaster with a glare and folded his arms.

"You will remove that… _man_ from the castle at once, Headmaster," Severus demanded, "Or I will remove Potter from his classes and inform the other parents of the situation."

Albus beamed and twinkled at him in a most disconcerting manner, but Severus knew better than to try and work out what he'd said now to cause such a look. He'd have to review the conversation later in his quarters.

"Severus, I cannot remove Alastor from his duties, however I will speak to him about the lesson," Albus replied, "You know that with the Tournament about to occur here we need him and his experience to safeguard the students."

"Then Potter will not be attending Defence," Severus replied firmly. His Ward stiffened indignantly beside him but knew better than to argue the point in public, thank Merlin. He had at least learned that there was a time and a place to put his opinion forward.

"Severus, Defence Against the Dark Arts is a mandatory course for all students fifth year and below. Harry cannot be withdrawn until he has taken his OWL in the subject," Albus pointed out with all the serenity of a man who knows that his has right on his side, not to mention centuries of policy.

"Very well," Severus conceded, making a mental note that his Ward would begin taking private instruction from him thrice weekly, in order to be ready to take his OWL in Defence Against the Dark Arts as soon as possible. It was permitted for a gifted student to demand early testing – Potter would pass or know the reason why.

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	14. Chapter 14

**Harry**

The Headmaster, or Snape, Harry was never really too sure which, circulated a rumour about an emergency portkey malfunctioning in the face of the Unforgivables, so Harry's little adventure in apparation didn't get out among the student population. He was glad of that, as he didn't want the notoriety that would come from being able to break the 'no one can apparate inside Hogwarts' rule. Harry was pretty sure the rule was a bogus one and that the wards were somehow keyed to let certain people apparate when they needed to, but he didn't want to risk asking Snape, and asking Hermione was a sure-fire way to get your ear chewed off about 'Hogwarts: A History'. As Hermione and Ron both knew that Harry still wore Snape's portkey, neither of his friends found the explanation suspicious.

Snape had issused several strict edicts about Harry's attendance in Defence class – where he would sit and what amount of exposure he was allowed to have to 'that imbecile masquerading as a competent instructor' – as well as informing him that he would be taking private tuition from Snape himself in that class in order to pass his OWL as soon as possible. Harry was pretty sure that the Headmaster hadn't been informed of this plan and certainly didn't intend to mention it himself. If Snape hadn't told the Headmaster that he intended for his Ward to test out of Defence Against the Dark Arts, then Harry could use the knowledge as leverage of sorts. He got along with Snape pretty well these days, but he certainly wasn't going to discard any tool that might help give him an edge when it came to dealing with his Guardian.

In the run up to Halloween – a holiday that Harry was ambivalent about at best – he found himself very busy. The arrival of the two competing schools was barely a blip on his horizon, as was the set up of the Goblet of Fire. He and Snape discussed the magical artefact as part of their studies together, though Snape made it clear that he was not to get anywhere near it. Harry told his Guardian flat out that he wasn't interested in competing in the tournament and saw a rare flash of approval in his Guardian's eyes before the man moved on to other subjects.

Ron developed a case of hero worship over Viktor Krum, and Harry had to admit that he'd been surprised the other boy was still in school, albiet his final year. So was Hermione, though she was more interested in how Krum's sport impacted his study time and wondering if the older teen was merely coasting along on his Quidditch talent. Moody's lessons continued to be… odd, though they had calmed down after that first terrible shock into the more normal pattern of spell theory and practice. If the spells were a bit more combative than they had been in the previous years, the students put it down to Moody's obsession with 'constant vigilance'.

Then it was Halloween and the Feast was timed to coincide with the selection of the Tri Wizard Champions. Harry found himself comfortably squashed between Ron and Hermione, sipping at the spiced, heated pumpkin juice that the house elves had prepared and waiting with the rest of the school to find out who their chapmion would be. He had to admit that he was impressed with the way the artefact made its announcement, and at the way the Headmaster caught the fluttering scraps of paper – the man could have been a Seeker with those reflexes. No one was surprised that Krum was selected for Durmstrang, and Ron was pleased that Fleur Delacore was selected for Beauxbatons. The other girls from her school were not, which amused Hermione anyway. Then Cedric Diggory was chosen from Hufflepuff for the Hogwarts Champion and Harry yelled and cheered as loudly as any of them, pleased for the older teen, though in his heart of hearts he'd have preferred a Gryffindor as one of the Champions.

Which was why his name fluttering from the Goblet was such a shock. He'd never… he wouldn't…

Only Hermione's prodding got him to move and he was aware of Snapes' gaze boring holes into his back as he moved past the teachers into the room where the real Champions were waiting. He'd registered dimly the grief and shock on McGonnagal and Hagrid's faces, which had brought home to him the very real danger he was in. Champions had died in the past – and they were all of Legal Age. They'd had more schooling than him and were much more grown than he was. He didn't stand a chance – and he didn't want to try. He isolated himself from the Champions in the back room, too shocked to answer their questions about his presence.

The Headmasters burst into the room, followed by the Hogwarts Heads of House and there was a lot of shouting and accusations. His protests that he hadn't entered his name in the Goblet were shot down by Crouch, who seemed more than a little off. The mans fanatical insistance that no one could fool the Goblet positvely flew in the face of reason.

Even McGonagall and Snape pairing up together to try and get him out of the mess he was in hadn't worked. Harry locked eyes with his Guardian desperately, and didn't resist the vicious Legilimens probe that swept through his thoughts, confirming that he hadn't attempted to enter despite their discussions. Harry knew that in his heart of hearts Snape was waiting for Harry to betray him somehow, and the teen couldn't blame the man. After all, he was waiting for the same thing from Snape. That thought was also noted and catalogued; embarrassing but not important in the face of the danger Harry was now faciing.

"You'll have to stop those tutoring sessions, Potter," Moody spoke up just as it seemed that everyone was starting to calm down, "Three times a week, it won't do to have you getting favoured treatment now."

Snape had always said that Moody was not to be trusted, a statement that was now bourne out by Moody's apparent intention to see him die in the Tournament – or that is how it felt to Harry. He'd noticed that the two Wizards hated each other and Harry would have had to be very dense indeed not to know that there was some history that stretched back before Hogwarts colouring their reactions to each other. Ron had said that Moody hunted Dark Wizards and part of Harry had wondered if that meant that his Guardian had once been hunted by Moody. Snape did seem to fit the profile of a Dark Wizard – his attitude to certain spells and potions didn't seem entirely Light for a start. Harry was not so naïve anymore as to confuse Dark and Evil as the same thing. He knew there were shades of grey in the world.

In the light of Moody's announcement the other school Head's insisted that he attend no more than his regular lessons. Dumbledore was unprepared for the attack on his tutors, and though the Headmaster was right to point out that the older students were getting specialised instruction, somehow it was made out that Harry should get no more than the instruction expected for a child of his age.

In the space of a few hours every aspect of his life was turned on it's ear. He hadn't expected Snape to help him cheat or anything but he had been hoping that his Guardian would at least find a way to help him come through this alive. Now even that slender comfort was torn from him.

0o0o0o0


	15. Chapter 15

Things went rapidly downhill. The fight with Ron, Hermione's defection, the school turning on him… it was all too much. Harry wondered briefly if he would even survive until Christmas, when the first task was scheduled to begin. Dizzy, in what appeared to be a direct contradiction of orders, showed him to an amazing room that had whatever he needed in it, and Harry found himself retreating there more and more as the days passed. He attended every lesson of course, he would not let his Guardian down, but when lessons were done he hid himself away from the rest of the school, too miserable and anxious to bear the thought of studying in the library under the watchful, hostile gaze of his peers.

Snape had outlined a course of study for their tutoring sessions way back at the start of them, and Harry was now struggling to maintain that on his own. He had decided that he'd need all the help he could get, given that he had no idea what the first task would entail. If he was going into a duel then he needed better spells than the standard fourth year level.

Then Hagrid showed him the dragons. It was a good thing he did so on a Friday, as there was no way he could have functioned in class the following day. He spent the entire weekend locked in the Room of Requirement, desperately working on spells that would help fire proof him. Part of him wondered if it wouldn't be better to let the dragon maul him, thus removing him from the Tournament, but he had too much of Gryffindor in his blood to simply take the cowards way out. He found a way to warn Cedric of the first task, ignoring the Hufflepuff's apologies for the 'Potter Stinks' badges as a matter of course. It had gotten to the point that he couldn't bring himself to care what the others thought of him, his spirits were so low. Not even Malfoy being turned into a ferret made him smile.

So it was that he eventually gave in to his need for escape from his thoughts and slipped into the comforting form of Caecus. He slunk through the school halls miserably, eventually finding his way onto the school roof. He curled up in the lee of a chimney and stared up at the stars, wondering what in Merlin's name he would be able to do against a dragon that wouldn't involve dieing a horribly messy death. Even Charlie Weasley had a healthy respect for the beasts, and Ron's older brother was working with them on a daily basis. He knew that to Change into his form in front of the whole school would do nothing more than get him killed quicker, his secret also revealed despite Snape's strictest edict. Not even Hermione and Ron knew about his form. He had not mastered any but the most basic dragonkeepers spells that he'd discovered in a book in the Room – its habit of dropping books from no where to land on their spines cracked to the page he'd need notwithstanding.

Malfoy's taunts were looking more and more likely to come true – though he had enjoyed seeing the Blonde Ponce of Slytherin turned into a ferret.

There was a soft hoot, a clatter of feathers and then Hedwig was perched beside him, eyeing him with disfavour. The chimney was a bit smoky and she'd likely get soot in her feathers if she stayed too long. He purred and rubbed his head against her wing to say hello, before nudging her suggestively. Although he loved her company, he was in no fit state to care for her now. Hedwig got that stubborn glint in her eyes and actually cuffed him with a wing, turning her head pointedly to look at the path back to the balcony Harry had used to get outside. She wanted him to come in from the cold, that much was clear, but Harry wasn't ready yet. The castle was full of people with impossible expectations – out here it was just Caecus and the stars. Hedwig hooted again, then launched herself with a great thrust of her wings. She circled quickly out of his sight and for a moment, Harry missed her so badly that he had to remind himself that cats couldn't cry.

Then her claws connected with the scruff of his neck and he found all four paws dangling in space as his owl plucked him from the roof as if he was nothing more than an oversized mouse. Instinct kept him still and compliant while his beloved owl carried him across the roof, depositing him in the waiting arms of his Guardian.

"Good girl," the words were softly spoken as strong arms gathered Harry into the folds of the familiarly scented cloak. Harry gave up and went limp, letting the man do what he liked. He was in for a scolding at the very least, though he had a small inkling of an idea of what he could do against the dragon now. Flitwick's charm class was about to save his life in a way that Harry had never expected. Mentally blessing his owl for his insight, Harry put everything to one side and let his Guardian take him back into the castle.

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	16. Chapter 16

Snape didn't say anything as they swept through the halls of the school, doubtless saving his lecture for the privacy of his quarters. Harry let the walls blur past him apathetically, taking a few moments for himself; like this he could pretend that the person carrying him was someone who cared, that Snape would be able to solve his problems once they arrived at their destination.

"Snape," Moody stepped out of the cross corridor without warning, though Harry thought that his Guardian had been aware of the other mans approach and braced for it; certainly his muscles had readied themselves for a confrontation.

"Moody," Snape snapped sourly, "Was there something you wanted or is this a social moment?"

"Who is that?" Moody ignored both the tone and the question and a moment later Harry felt a finger prodding at his side. He reacted without thinking, hissing in anger and swiping with his claws. He made contact with Moody's finger and felt a flash of satisfaction at the man's sharp breath and the withdrawal of the now bleeding finger.

"It's a cat, Moody, I would have thought with that eye of yours you'd be able to tell that," Snape replied, "And she doesn't like to be prodded."

'_She?'_ Harry wondered, then realised that even with him in cat form, Snape was trying to conceal his identity. The man's paranoia seemed to know no bounds, though Harry didn't want Moody to know about Caecus either. To show he understood this, he burrowed closer to his Guardian, letting the black of his fur blend into the black of the mans robes.

"Good evening gentlemen," McGonagall's voice joined the conversation. She looked as austere as ever. Harry had never seen his Head of House look anything less than perfectly turned out and wondered if that was a function of her Magic or her personality.

"Good evening Minerva," Snape replied, his tone a shade warmer. Harry pulled his head out of the folds of his Guardian's cloak and blinked at his favourite teacher. She reached out and ran a finger lightly over his ear, ignoring Moody's warning that he was vicious. Snape's protest that Moody had been prodding, not stroking fell on deaf ears as Harry leaned into the gentle touch.

"You'd better let Poppy take a look at that Alastor," she murmured, sending Harry a slightly naughty look, "Who knows where those paws have been?"

Moody humphed and stomped off. McGonagall petted Harry for a moment more, then nodded to Snape, sweeping off towards the Tower. Snape resumed his stalking progress to the dungoens and Harry once more burrowed into a fold of the mans cloak, deciding discretion was the better part of valour.

The familiar scent of the Professor's quarters was like home to Harry, a realisation that so startled him he lost track of what his Guardian was doing for a moment. He'd always considered Hogwarts to be his home, with especial fondness for the Gryffindor Tower and his little space in the attic. That the scent of the the belongings of strictest teacher in the school could also become a comfort to him was something Harry would never have believed possible.

"Harry," Snape said his name quietly and Harry blinked, becoming aware that he was lying on the Professor's lap, the fingers of one long hand carding gently through his fur, "I would much prefer to have a conversation with you in your normal form."

Harry sighed deeply, wanting his reluctance to be registered, before stirring cautiously and stepping up onto the arm of Snape's chair before leaping down to the floor. He willed himself back into Human form and straightened his robes, using the task as an excuse to avoid his Guardian's eye.

"I'm sorry, sir," he said finally, hating that his voice was so small.

"Do not be," Snape sighed, "I should have anticipated that your little friends would let you down in this manner. With our extra lesson's on hold, it was only a matter of time before you became overwhelmed."

Part of Harry stirred angrily at that – he wasn't some spineless twerp that couldn't cope! He was just worried and isolated. He'd become unexpectedly accustomed to knowing that Snape was there to talk to if he needed it – in an odd way, Snape had become someone he relied on. And his friends were his friends, a little falling out didn't change that!

"Much better, my Ward," Snape's voice recalled him to the 'talk' they were having, "As surprised as I am to say it, I much prefer you when you are more defiant in your attitude."

So, all that was Snape's way of cheering him up. Typical. Harry sighed and sat in the armchair that he was beginning to think of as his. The glint in Snape's eye was familiar though, and Harry couldn't quite repress the corners of his mouth, which were turning up a little.

"Have you devised a strategy for the First Task?" Snape steepled his fingers in front of him, a familiar gesture from their early talks. Harry nodded.

"I have, sir, but I'm not sure it will work. When Hedwig picked me up just now, I thought that I could fly against the dragon. I could summon my broom from the castle. I'm much faster in the air than on the ground," Harry bit his lip, "None of the spells I've researched have really been any good against a dragon, but I can at least dodge it. If I have to, I'll throw the competition."

It was a blow to his Gryffindor pride, but he saw no reason to risk his life for fame and glory.

"I am aware of the cost to your ego that last sentence creates," Snape's voice was approving, "However, it would be a pity for you not to complete the blasted Tournament now that you are entered. The presitge of doing so would enhance your reputation as a Wizard, especially as your current reputation is built upon an event so mysterious no one is sure you could repeat the feat."

Harry gaped at his Guardian.

"But you were against me entering!" he protested, "You didn't want me anywhere near the Goblet and when my name came out you used a Legilimency probe on me so hard I had a headache for _days_."

"I ask your pardon for that – I thought you would put more resistance up," Snape inclined his head regally, "As to my earlier wishes – they are obviously moot."

Harry huffed and folded his arms, glaring at his Guardian in frustration. When would he get it right – or at least meet the standards that Snape had for him? It seemed that every time he thought he was on the right track, the rules changed. The only thing that was stopping him from calling Snape on it was the knowledge that his Guardian could make life so very difficult for him; he had a few years to go before he was seventeen and thus no longer under Snapes control and he'd decided very early in that first summer that the only way to survive was to swallow his pride and keep his head down. There were days when that was more difficult than others, but Snape had turned out to be a surprisingly good Guardian: certainly he was far and away better than living with the Dursely's. Snape raised an eyebrow at him, but before either one of them could speak the fire flared and a voice called,

"Is this a bad time?"

Harry jumped and turned to look at the fireplace. Remus Lupin's head was floating in the flames, which were a rather unusual colour.

"Indeed, Lupin, this might be considered to be a fortuitous interruption," Snape replied, "I will leave you to your converstation. Do not keep the boy up all night, he has a busy day tomorrow. Harry, you will knock upon my door when you are finished, understood?"

"Yes sir," Harry nodded and got down onto the hearth in response to his Gaurdian's subtle gesture. Remus beamed at him and Harry grinned in response, a little unsettled at the idea of his former teacher floating disembodied in fire.

"Sirius is here too, but I thought it best to pop in first and make sure you were ready to speak with us," Remus confided with a wink. Harry nodded, seeing the wisdom in keeping Sirius and Snape apart, "Just a moment then, Harry!"

Remus disappeared and then reappeared to one side, with Sirius squashed in beside him.

"Wotcha, Harry!" Sirius called, "You alright, then?"

Harry grinned, pleased to see, even in the midst of flames, that Sirius looked a lot better. He'd gained some needed weight and his hair was simply messy rather than wild and tangled. Some of the hunted look had disappeared from his eyes and he was clean shaven once again.

"Yeah, alright," Harry replied, resolving not to moan about his troubles, "You're looking better Sirius."

"I could hardly look worse," Sirius laughed, "Moony can be a terrible bully when he wants to be!"

"Oi!" Remus objected, but he didn't seem too upset. Harry laughed at the jostling going on in the fire, glad Snape couldn't see this. It wasn't really dignified, which meant that Snape definitely wouldn't approve.

"Are you really alright, though?" Moony asked after a moment, "We were horrified to read that you'd been selected to enter the TriWizard Tournament!"

"So was I," Harry admitted quietly, "And Ron and the whole school think I did it for a bit of attention, and I didn't, Moony, I promise! Now Ron's not talking to me, and Hermione is on his side I think, and I don't know what I'm going to do to prove that I didn't enter it!"

His voice had raised a bit at the end and he shut his mouth, reminding himself that he wasn't supposed to be whining on about his troubles.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Moony murmured, "I'm sure Ron will come around sooner or later. He's always been overshadowed at home, and now he's your best friend and that means he's somewhat in your shadow too."

"Still, a real friend wouldn't abandon Harry like that," Sirius protested, "Nor would a real Gryffindor. I'll be sending you a parcel Harry, that will help you sort young Ron out…"

"No, Padfoot!" Moony said sharply, "Pranking Ron won't help the situation at all. They have to sort this out for themselves!"

"I don't want to prank Ron," Harry agreed, "But thanks for the offer, Sirius."

Ron would not react well to being pranked – he hated it when the twins did it to him and would never forgive Harry if the dark haired teen started in on him too.

"You've gotten old and stodgy, Moony," Sirius sighed dramatically, "Something will have to be done about that."

"Now, Sirius…" Remus began but was ignored by Harry's Godfather.

"Mr Padfoot hereby declares a Prank War, the purpose of which is to teach Mr Moony once and for all to act his age… and I don't mean his chronological one!" Sirius declared, a twinkle in his eye that couldn't be put down to the fire he was currently suspended in. It was the most life Harry had ever seen in his eyes and from the look on Remus' face his former teacher was happy to see it too, despite his protests.

"Oh dear," Remus sighed, "Harry, I think we'd better go, before things degenerate."

"Who are you calling a degenerate?" Sirius objected loudly and the two fell into bickering with each other, seeming to forget that Harry was there.

"Ok," Harry grinned, "Good luck, Remus. And Sirius? I want pictures!"

"You got it!" Sirius cheered and Remus moaned in despair as their heads popped out. Harry spent a few minutes grinning at the thought of the two grown men acting like the twins, then got up from the hearth. He went to knock on Snape's door, unsurprised when it opened immediately.

"All done?" Snape asked quietly, and Harry nodded. Snape reached out a long hand and brushed his fingers over Harry's fringe, the action so un-Snape-like that Harry stood still in surprise. His Guardian scrutinised his face closely, as if looking for something, though there was none of the tickle that Harry associated with Snape looking in his thoughts.

"No matter what happens tomorrow, I am proud of you, my Ward," Snape murmured softly, "You have proven to be worthy."

"Thank you, sir," Harry replied through a tight throat. This simple acceptance of him meant more than all the florid praise and affection in the world.

"You had best return to the Tower," Snape put a hand on Harry's shoulder and steered him back to the hearth. His Guardian threw some powder from a pot into the flames, which roared and turned green. Harry didn't have time to hear what Snape said as he was shoved forward, sucked up the chimney and spun out into the Gryffindor common room. He fell flat upon the hearthrug, coughing the mouthful of soot he'd sucked up by accident out and wondering why Wizards never invented a _pleasant_ way to travel.

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	17. Chapter 17

**Severus**

Severus would rather have faced the Wizengamot in his underwear than sit calmly in the stands and watch the Champions face their dragons. A glance over at the Gryffindor section showed that Weasley and Granger were beginning to understand precisely the situation his Ward was in. It had taken every ounce of his not inconsiderable self control to restrain himself from activating the Port Key and sending Harry safely to his room.

The Bond was uneasy, reflecting both their discomfort. Potter had not been faking his distress these last few weeks. Things had come to a head last night when Dizzy had informed him that Master Harry was shivering on the roof. The boy had not noticed his presence on the balcony; it had taken his well trained owl to retrieve him.

The ludicrous Ludo Bagman announced Potter's name as the angriest dragon that Severus had ever seen was set into place with the fake egg. Of the three Champions so far none had emerged unscathed, each suffering an injury of varying degrees. This was madness and Severus turned to Albus with the intent of calling things off.

"You mustn't interfere, Severus," Albus murmured almost silently, "The magical contract has set now – you'll be risking his magic and life…"

The crowd's noise level rose as Harry stepped into the arena, looking impossibly young and small. For a moment, Severus wanted to declare that he didn't care about the contract, that Potter was Not To Be Risked in such a foolish fashion. Then his more cunning side came to the fore – if Potter were to survive this task then they would be in a better position to negotiate with society at large come the next one.

"Accio Firebolt!" Harry's voice carried clearly to Severus ears and he very nearly sighed in relief. The boy was no match for a dragon on the ground – but in the air… he was the wind itself, and that Firebolt was a tool to be reckoned with. His chances of surviving just rose substantially.

Severus allowed the crowd around him to ooh and ahh at the brats antics in the air, though he had a close call himself when the blasted overgrown lizard actually managed to connect with Potter. The broom staggered for a moment and then he had it in hand once more, zigzagging in a manouevre that would have had him restricted to his room had he tried it in any other circumstances. Moments later he came up with the blasted egg and the trainers ran onto the field to deal with the irate dragon.

Severus didn't wait to see them get it under control. He was already slipping away, a handy spell directing the attention of anyone who was looking for him towards Albus instead. It was a moments work to slip beneath the arena seats and head for the hospital tent that Madame Pomfrey had insisted on setting up. He slid past the other three Champions – who were all clustered around the main entrance to see Potter's scores – and into the curtained alcove where Potter was resting.

The boy looked up when he entered and some of the tension in his frame drained away as he reached out a small, shaking hand. Severus took it between his own without thinking, watching narrowly as Poppy dealt with the nasty shoulder wound and minor burns. She was in fine form, a steady torrent of comments and complaints washing over them as Severus took a moment to stabilise the bond and ease some of Potter's distress.

"I have a few potions that will help with that – you'll come see me tonight," Severus murmured as she clucked away, complaining about the Tournament and risking life and limb for fame.

"Severus Snape, if I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times – you don't need to potion the boy at the drop of a cauldron!" she snapped, sticking her wand into her apron pocket and her hands onto her hips.

"Nor do I," Severus squeezed the hand he still held, "However in this case I think you'll agree that the child warrants some attention."

Potter didn't seem to mind that they were speaking over his head, which Severus counted as an improvement. At one time he'd have been protesting too, attempting to argue with both of the adults present. He didn't like that it was happening now – Severus could tell by his posture though his expression was properly neutral – but he would at least wait to complain to his Guardian in private now, if at all. The lessons in decorum were sinking in, finally. Severus was beginning to think that he'd have a young man worth knowing on his hands by the time Potter came of age.

"At any rate, Severus, they'll want him out the front to give him his scores, now," Poppy abandoned the argument, "And then I want you to rest Harry."

"You'll come straight to my parlour," Severus ordered, "Not to Gryffindor. I want you where I can supervise you properly. I also agreed to host your Dog-father on my hearth again."

Harry cheered up at that prospect and slid off the table, tugging at the hand that Severus still held. The Potions Master kept it for a moment, causing his Ward to still and look up at him.

"Well done, Harry," the small bow and squeeze to the hand made the child light up even further and he received a small bow in return.

"Ridiculously over formal," Poppy tutted in the background, "Go on Harry."

"Yes Matron," Harry smiled at his Guardian once more and headed for the front of the tent, answering when Ludo Bagman called an enquiry as to his whereabouts. Severus sniffed in disdain and made his way quickly back to his seat, aware that the spell he'd left behind would begin to degrade in another forty eight seconds.

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	18. Chapter 18

Of course, he hadn't been able to whisk Potter away at once, which was what he'd wanted. Even after Poppy Pomfrey's remarkable treatments, his Ward was too wan for Severus' taste. He had watched as Potter was sucked into a crowd of adoring students and public, looking ill at ease. His Ward had managed to send him one apologetic look, to which Severus had responded with a nod. It would not be politic to alienate people now, especially after all he had to do to gain this current level of adulation.

It took Potter two hours to return to Severus' parlour, during which time he'd lost yet more colour. He sat in what they were both coming to think of as 'Harry's chair' and allowed Severus to look him over carefully before producing the afore mentioned potions. A thin flush of colour stole over his cheeks as the last potion took effect, though Severus didn't move from his place until he was sure the boy was stable.

"Feeling better, Harry?" the voice from the hearth made Harry jump, though Severus was too well trained as a spy to betray his own startlement. Remus and the Dog were hanging in the fire, watching them both with concern. He hadn't registered the flare up of the flames, preoccupied as he was with Harry's health.

"Yes, Remus," Potter replied, "Professor Snape takes good care of me."

The Dog nodded, the expected scowl or protests not arising as he stared in a worried way at his godson, "I'm glad to see that you've got someone there looking after you, Harry."

"Thanks, Sirius. How's the prank war going?" Harry clearly was as uncomfortable with this line of conversation as his Guardian was, changing the topic clumsily, but effectively.

"He's losing," Remus laughed, "He's out of practice!"

"Maybe in the half term hols, you could come and help me out, Harry?" Sirius grinned. Severus bristled in his seat, disliking the way the man issued the invitation without checking with _him_ first.

"Certainly not," Severus vetoed at once, "He's got far too much to think about here without wasting his time and energy on learning ridiculous rubbish."

Severus watched his Ward bite his lips but defer to his statement, giving a weak 'maybe another time' as an appeasement to the man scowling on the hearth. Severus announced that his Ward needed to rest and recuperate and cut the call short, sensing that they were about to have the argument that had been brewing ever since Severus had taken on his role of Guardian to the Ward Who Lived.

He had demanded that Harry remake himself – that he change the way he spoke, the way he passed his leisure hours and the way he interacted with others. While he knew that his Ward had noticed the improvement in his life, he also knew that Harry disliked being molded so comprehensively. Besides, the brat was a teenager – arguments were de rigeur for teenagers.

"That wasn't fair!" Harry burst out once their hearth visitors had faded away, "You could have at least let me go for a little while!"

"Potter, you are under scrutiny, more so this year than any other. You cannot risk such a distraction…" Severus began.

"He's _my_ Godfather! I know you hate him, I know you hated my parents and that you don't care what they wanted for me or my life, but I want to get to know him! I want to know Remus better too! I've done _everything_ you asked of me – why can't you let me have this one thing!"

"Nor can you risk leading the Press to his location. While he puts on a good front in the fire, from Remus' reports, your Godfather is still not completely healed," Severus continued as if his Ward hadn't spoken, "To be under the public eye in such a state would do no good for either of you."

"It's not as if you care about him!" Harry scathed, "You would have left him to the Dementors last year if I hadn't been there."

"Yes I would!" Severus raged, leaping from his armchair and pinning Harry in place with clawed hands, "I'd have left him to rot in prison, given the choice, because you are right Potter, I don't care about him one iota!"

Harry shrank back, fear and pain in his eyes, but Severus felt that this confrontation had been a while coming and wasn't about to stop now. There were certain things that needed to be said, things that he had been avoiding for a while now.

"We were bonded together as the result of an old mans machinations, a situation that you cannot for one moment think that I wanted – I know that you yourself was appalled at the news. However Potter, as usual, there is one fundamental fact in all this that you are missing! I do not care about Sirius Black, nor the decisions of James Potter. I _do _care about _**you!**_"

"You care that I do as I'm told, speak as I'm told, dress as I'm told and act as I'm told," Harry retorted breathlessly, "I'm just another one of your potions – you'll see me finished to your standards or know the reason why. You don't care about _me_. You don't even know _me_!"

And with that last statement hanging in the air, Harry eeled out of Severus' suddenly lax grip, slipping to the floor and scuttling out of reach before running for the door. Severus sent a hasty locking charm to keep his Ward in and was not best pleased when Potter counteracted it without breaking a sweat. The teen was out the door and along the corridor so quickly Severus almost supsected him of apparating. He stopped in the corridor and glared into the darkness as his Wards footsteps receded rapidly.

That had not gone well.

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	19. Chapter 19

**Harry**

He switched to Caecus the moment he hit the public corridors, not wanting anyone to see him in a state right after the First Task. In cat-form it wasn't hard to avoid the people still milling through the corridors and he blessed his dark fur as he crept in through the portrait hole to Gryffindor Tower behind some seventh years. It was a moments work to slip around the edges of the rooms into the shadows of the stairs, using his smaller form to slide _under_ them to a small dark space he'd found only this summer.

Now if anyone tried to track him, his location would come up in Gryffindor Tower, just as it should, with the added bonus of privacy. His housemates were milling about, waiting for him to arrive in Harry-form, but Harry had no intention of dealing with them tonight. He certainly didn't want to deal with Ron, who was lurking on the edge of the crowd, looking anxious and upset.

Eventually, the seventh years herded everyone off to bed, even Hermione and Ron who were worried and asking if they could run down to the Hospital Wing and see if Harry was there. Once the common room was quiet, Caecus settled at the edge of the dark space, waiting patiently. Sure enough, not forty minutes after they'd been sent off by the prefects, Ron and Hermione snuck quietly down the staircase. They didn't have the map or the invisibility cloak – Harry was hiding them from Snape and had succeeded so far – and they argued briefly for a moment before slipping into the corridor beyond the portrait, heading for the hospital wing.

Twenty minutes later they were back, looking chastised, with Professor McGonagall's strict voice telling them to get up to bed immediately. Caecus muffled a snicker in his paws and watched them trail up the stairs. He gave it another ten minutes and then left the dark space, shaking his fur free of dust and padding over to the warmth of the common room fire. The hearth stones were warm and rough and he settled onto them with a soft sigh, curling his paws and tail into his body and staring into the smoldering coals. His thoughts had been whirling uselessly, but the flickering lights and dancing sparks gave him something to focus on and he gradually tamed the chaos in his mind.

Harry had been building up to that argument with Snape for ages. At first, he'd been too frightened by the change in guardianship to dare go against Snape's wishes in any way. Once he'd realised that Snape was very strict but actually capable of being fair, he'd been eager to please. As time wore on though, he'd begun to feel that nothing he ever did would truly make the grade. Snape still doubted Harry – seemed to be waiting for Harry to mess up and prove how useless he was – and that made things hard. He only approved of Harry when he'd done something impossible, like out flown a dragon or sent off a flock of Dementors. Harry had done so much more than that though – he'd risen to the top three of his year group for all the subjects he took, he'd learned to speak and behave in a whole new way when in front of adults, he'd even given up dressing in the familiar Muggle style, becoming totally Wizard in his appearance. He'd remade himself for Snape, but it still wasn't good enough. He'd even learnt advanced Magic and was planning to take his OWL's early for Defence Against the Dark Arts and that still wasn't good enough!

Caecus growled in frustration as his fur stood on end and deliberately relaxed his body again, standing up to stretch thoroughly before sitting down and grooming his fur back into place; finally repositioning himself on the warm stones to be comfortable once more.

The only positve of the situation, that Harry could see, was that Snape would either ignore him from now on, writing him off as a lost cause and doing just enough to satisfy the Guardian bond, or he would revert back to his usual method of treating Harry – something that Harry knew full well how to deal with, no matter how nasty the man got. Either way, he was fairly sure that Snape would stop bothering with him on a personal level now, which was for the best.

Ignoring the ache in his chest at the thought that he was on his own once more, Caecus lowered his head onto the warm stones and let the warmth and flickering light send him to sleep.

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	20. Chapter 20

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Crookshanks woke him up in the morning, the orange cat purring and butting his head gently. Caecus purred back and rubbed cheeks with Hermione's familiar, who was the only Gryffindor who knew of his cat-form. He and Crookshanks had chased through the corridors together several times, bouncing after moths and stalking the occasional mouse. They'd been friends – and Caecus had enjoyed having someone to knock about with that didn't make demands. Crookshanks had even shown him some cat-sized shortcuts through the castle, which had come in useful when avoiding teachers.

"Oh! Who's your friend, Crookshanks?" Hermione's voice was not entirely unexpected. She was usually up early on a school day. Harry and Ron had gotten used to coming downstairs in the morning to find their friend waiting for them with her cat and a book.

Caecus watched warily as she came over and avoided her hand when she reached out to stroke him. She looked hurt for a moment, but Harry didn't want to be petted by his best friend, even if she wasn't talking to him at the moment. That would be weird, especially once she found out who Caecus really was. He meowed at her nicely though and chirruped at Crookshanks who purred in farewell as Harry scampered up the stairs towards the dorms – the best way to make Hermione think that he was just someone's cat and not an Animagus. The first year's loos were empty, so Harry changed back to himself there, splashed water on his face and nipped upstairs to his own dorm, collecting clothes and wash bag silently while his dorm-mates snored on.

Washed, dressed and ready for the day's lessons, Harry slipped once more down the stairs, his shoulder nagging dully at him and making him carry his bag on the other side. Madam Pomfrey had insisted that he wear a sling, but Snape hadn't been around for that and so Harry had ditched it as soon as he could. Slings showed a weakness; now that he was on his own again, Harry couldn't afford to be seen as weak.

Hermione was talking to some second years as he passed through the room, moving quickly and quietly to avoid her notice. The portrait swung shut without her voice calling after him and he heaved a sigh of relief. He really wasn't in the mood for a lecture about how dangerous yesterday had been, or what he could have done better. He certainly wasn't in the mood to listen to another lecture about how badly he was treating Ron.

He ate breakfast with some first years, who gaped at him in awe. They'd have been better off paying attention to what they were doing as most of their breakfast missed their mouths – an opinion that smacked of Professor Snape, so Harry did nothing to act on it. He had a feeling that the last two years had made more of an impact on him than he'd realised and was smart enough to know that trying to eradicate that influence would be counter productive. Like it or not, Snape had changed a small part of Harry: to deny that change would be futile.

The first lesson of the day was Defence, which he sat at the back for, isolated from the class and the teacher. He knew better than to go in there alone – Moody was… off, in a way that Harry had never seen before – so he waited in the shadows for one of his classmates to come along. Ron and Hermione were the first to arrive, which wasn't exactly ideal. His mood hadn't improved over breakfast – he was still in no mood to hear 'I told you so.'

Fortunately for him, Seamus and Dean weren't far behind, so Harry slipped into the room behind them and headed for his usual seat. When he realised that Ron and Hermione were waiting for him there, he slipped into another, one further away from the door than he liked, and got ready for the lesson while the rest of the class streamed in.

That was the pattern for the rest of the day. Ron and Hermione seemed determined to sit in his usual seats, which forced him to find alternates. He ducked them at lunch by the simple method of not going, and once Transfiguration let out for the day he disappeared down a side corridor and took one of Crookshanks shortcuts to get to the library. There were several spots there that he could work on homework and study without being noticed, which was what he did.

After dinner – sitting with the first years that had thankfully gotten over their need to gape at him – he headed once more for the room that Dizzy had shown him. Now that he wasn't facing a dragon, he found that his extra studies were a little easier.

He completely forgot about the golden egg in his bag until he dropped it on his way back to the dorm. The egg rocked on the floor amongst his parchment and spare quills, reminding him that he had another Task to complete in the not so distant future. He hadn't even tried to open it and for a moment he hesitated, contemplating going back into the Room or heading for the Tower. A distant chime reminded him that it was only a few minutes to curfew, so he stuffed everything back in his bag, shrunk it and stuffed it in his pocket, then changed into Caecus and ran for the Tower at full speed. He slipped in behind some fifth years and scurried to his spot under the stairs, changing back into his usual form once underneath and pulling his bag back out of his pocket. His resizing spells were a little unstable at the best of times and he didn't want to know what would happen if the bag tried to expand to its normal size when his pocket technically no longer existed. He left it to one side and changed back into Caecus, settling comfortably until the common room emptied once more.

He'd avoided his Guardian successfully today, which had been a bit of a relief, though Harry was sure that Snape was out patrolling the corridors now, hoping to catch him out of bounds out of hours. Tomorrow he'd have a harder time of it, as they had potions first thing, but Harry was already mentally gritting his teeth to endure that lesson. He'd decided last night that he wasn't going to let his marks slip just because Snape had finally decided he'd had enough of being a Guardian, though he knew that he'd probably lose ground in Potions now that Snape was mad at him again.

Just as the common room began to empty of the older years, Harry realised that he hadn't seen Ron or Hermione this evening. He wondered where they were, a question that was answered in short order as the portrait hole opened and his two friends stepped in, followed closely by Snape.

Harry gaped from his hidey hole, furious. He couldn't believe that they'd gone to his Guardian! All three of them looked around the room and then Ron volunteered to check the dorm.

"He's not there, and Neville says he hasn't seen him all night either," Ron reported as he came back downstairs, breaking the uncomfortable silences that Hermione and Snape had been waiting in.

"Are you sure the spell is right, sir?" Hermione asked in a small voice and almost cringed at the glare she got in response. Harry grinned – she should have known better than to ask Snape _that_.

"Quite sure, Miss Granger, as my ability is significantly better than yours," Snape replied, "Harry is here. Did you find that infernal cloak of his, Weasley?"

"No sir, nor the map," Ron replied, "He hid them both at the start of the year, like usual."

Harry fumed, his tail bristling in irritation. Was he to ever have some secrets? A bit of privacy wasn't too much to ask, was it? He made sure that he stayed still though, keeping Caecus instincts firmly repressed. Snape would not be pleased to find him in cat-form in the Tower, and he had no intention of revealing Caecus to Ron and Hermione now.

"If Harry wishes to be found, then he will reveal himself in time," Snape sounded indifferent, "I suggest you leave him be. Five points from Gryffindor each for being out of bounds, after curfew."

"But we were looking for Harry! You said you were too!" Ron protested and Snape smirked at him.

"True. I, however, have permission to be out of my quarters. Did you? No? Then the points stand. Good evening," Snape replied and swept out of the common room in a flurry of black cloak. Ron spent a few minutes abusing Snape and then stomped upstairs to the boy's dorm. Hermione sighed and followed him more slowly.

When everything was quiet, Harry slipped from his hiding place, tugging his bag after him. He resumed his place on the hearth stone and tried to settle his thoughts for sleep. He hated being at odds with his friends, though he was resigned to it now. As for his Guardian, he wasn't quite sure what to think of the man – he had seemed worried about Harry, though it was probably because he didn't want Harry to do something that would reflect badly on him.

It wasn't until he was on the cusp of sleep that he realised that Snape had called him Harry. The thought stayed with him as he slept.

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	21. Chapter 21

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Potion's was… weird. Hermione and Ron tried to share his table, but Harry had taken to sitting with Neville in Potions and helping him with his work. The nervous boy had only melted one cauldron last term, which was a record. Snape instructed in his usual way, neither picking on Harry, nor ignoring him. He treated Harry as if nothing had happened, as if Harry hadn't yelled at the man and then spent the intervening time avoiding him and everyone else in the castle as much as he could.

He was glad to escape the dungeons without losing any points for Gryffindor and headed for the next lesson with a faint sense of disbelief. Apparently Snape had decided not to take his outburst seriously, which was frustrating to say the least.

That night in the Room, Harry opened the Golden Egg for the first time and nearly went deaf at the wall of sound that promptly overwhelmed him. He tried to shout questions over the noise at the egg, tried to identify the noise from descriptions in books, tried to muffle it under a pillow and see if that helped, but at the end of it all, he came away with a ringing earache and a desire for a headache potion, which the room promptly supplied.

Caecus was in no mood for social interaction as he slunk through the corridor towards the Tower. He avoided Mrs Norris and Professor McGonagall, as well as Crookshanks and Ribbons – the calico cat from Hufflepuff. He slipped into the common room with a sense of relief and slipped into his usual hiding place eagerly.

This was why it was something of a shock to find the space already occupied by a snake. Harry had never seen this snake in the Tower before, and it took a moment for him to identify the species. That trip to the Reptile House when Dudley was eleven had really stuck with him – this was an Australian Red Belly Black snake: extremely poisonous and quick. The sleek black scales and red underbelly were a dead give away, as was the blunt head of the snake. These things could grow up to two metres long; however they rarely delivered a full dose of venom in one bite, preferring to save their venom for multiple bites instead. That made it less likely that a single bite would kill a human, but a cat …

The snake regarded him steadily and Harry realised that it was probably quite torpid – it was cool under the stairs here, which meant that the snake would have slowed down quite a bit. He pressed himself close to the entrance of his hide away and kept one eye on the snake and one on the common room. Once the common room was empty, Harry made as if to crawl out, which finally garnered a reaction from the snake. It stirred itself slowly and moved to follow him, an outcome that made Harry nervous.

The snake joined him on the hearth, curling up with a snaky sigh of pleasure at the warmth. Harry was fairly sure that he'd understand parseltongue even if he was currently in cat-form, but the snake was making no effort to speak with him at all. In fact it winked at him and then apparently went to sleep. Caecus watched carefully for a few minutes before finally deciding that the snake meant no harm to him and relaxing his muscles.

Shaking his head, Harry settled on the other side of the hearth and slipped into a doze of his own. The snake was gone when he woke.

**AN – bonus points if you can figure out what is going on here!**

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As always when he was confronted with a deadline that he was unprepared for, it seemed that time sped up. Harry was no closer to cracking the eggs message until Cedric Diggory told him the password to the prefect's bathroom. Once he realised that he would have to retrieve something from the bottom of the lake from the mer-people, Harry's mood was not improved at all.

The snake had started to find him all over the castle. Harry had even seen the thing when he was in his usual form, not Caecus. It never tried to talk to him, just came and kept him company. He'd cast a few spells over it – warning it first because he didn't want to be bitten – which had showed that it was not under any external influence. He hadn't been able to work out who owned the snake – unless it was one of Snape's specimens that had somehow escaped.

Once the snake realised – and it was an intelligent specimen, because it had reacted to Harry's comments, or rather to his musing out loud – that he needed to be able to breathe under water for an hour, it turned up in the space under Gryffindor's stairs with a small glass jar labelled 'gilly weed'. A quick conversation with Neville showed that the weed would allow him to breathe under water for about an hour, which made Harry feel a bit better about the upcoming task.

All he had to do now was to work out what the mer-people were going to take from him.

Meanwhile, his 'avoid people' plan was not going as well as he'd have liked. Ron and Hermione continued to stalk him through the castle and Snape continued to treat him neutrally in lessons, which had Malfoy shooting some odd glances his way. The 'Potter Stinks' badges were a little less prevalent among the Ravenclaw's than before, which was nice in a way, and Victor Krum seemed to be stalking Hermione whenever she wasn't in lessons. In fact, if it hadn't been for Hedwig's little stunt, Caecus would be spending time out on the roof as the only place that he could get some true solitude.

On the morning of the second task, Ron and Hermione were no where to be seen. Harry wasn't sure if he was relieved by this, or disappointed that they wouldn't be there when he went into the water. It wasn't that he wanted to show off; it was more that he wanted to know there were at least two people on the shore that would be on his side if he needed them. Despite their argument and the current state of their friendship, Harry knew that his two friends would help him out if they could – or at least he hoped so.

He felt very small wading into the Lake after the three other champions. All three cast their charms and spells in quick order and vanished below the surface, but Harry had to chew and swallow the gilly weed, which tasted disgusting. The pain of the transformation was an unexpected shock, but once he got used to the idea of the gills and webbing he made pretty good time.

Then he discovered what the mer-people had taken. Bad enough that he wasn't talking to Ron, the idea that someone knew that Ron was the person he felt he couldn't do without was sort of mortifying. Snape knew about this, Harry was sure, but he couldn't spare the time to really care as Krum and then Cedric rescued Hermione and Cho respectively. When he realised that Fleur's little sister was not going to be rescued, he had to make the attempt himself, which led to some very stressful minutes until they were all above the surface. Cold air woke Ron and the little girl up – Harry couldn't remember her name and didn't really care in his heart of hearts – and all three of them swam for the shore.

Then it was towels and pepper-up and Hermione grabbing him into a hug, along with Ron who was muttering a thousand and one things in his ear, all variations of _thank you_ and _sorry_ and _you git we've __**missed**__ you_. Harry let them clutch at him, holding on just as strongly as they were and wanting everyone else to just sod off and let him get warm and dry.

He didn't really care about where he was in the standings, but managed to put on a credible front when he was announced as tying for first with Cedric, shaking the other boys hand and letting him go first towards the mass of students headed their way.

"Come on, I want out of these clothes," Ron muttered, latching onto Harry's arm, "So do you and so does Hermione. We'll deal with the Tower later."

Harry nodded and led the way as they ducked through the edge of the Forbidden Forrest, running for the school quickly and leading the way across the foyer to the entrance to his Nest. They were in and the door shut before anyone could catch up with them and the boys sent Hermione off to shower first. Dizzy appeared with a change of clothes for each, tutting at Harry over the state of his shoes and popping off with the promise of food and hot drinks.

It was an hour before they were all reassembled, Ron and Harry on the couch-come-bed, and Hermione curled in his armchair. Dizzy had brought hot chocolate and biscuits, which they were nibbling at and Harry felt oddly shy of his friends.

"I'm sorry," Ron went brick red, but he wasn't in Gryffindor for nothing, "I should have listened to you and Hermione better."

"It didn't help that you decided to avoid us, Harry," Hermione added, "We've been trying to talk to you for _ages_."

"I wasn't in a mood for a lecture, Hermione," Harry replied in a difficult voice, "I'm still not. I'm sorry, Ron. I should have tried harder to make you understand."

"I can't believe that I'm still the one you'd miss the most," Ron shook his head, "I thought for sure that you hated me the way you were trying to avoid me."

"No, it wasn't that," Harry sighed, "I needed to … it's hard to explain. I can't believe you went to Snape, though."

He was so relieved that they still wanted to be his friend that he couldn't quite believe his luck, but at the same time that betrayal still stung. He needed to know that they wouldn't run behind his back to his Guardian at every little hiccup, just as he wouldn't run to Mrs Weasley every time Ron put his foot out of line.

"We didn't," Hermione shook her head, "He caught us when we snuck out to look for you… wait: did Snape tell you that?"

"No," Harry grinned at her indignant tone, "I saw you together."

"So Harry, what do you think of Malfoy the Bouncing Ferret?" Ron had all the subtlety of a brick, but Harry didn't mind that too much. He leant back onto his nest and started catching up on the gossip that he'd missed with his friends.

The fact that it stopped Hermione from trying to discover exactly _where_ he'd been while they were looking for him was a sort of added bonus.

0o0o0o0


	22. Chapter 22

**Snape**

It was not hard to discover where his Ward had slipped off to, nor was he displeased to see that the brat had finally made up with his friends. Part of the discomfort of their Bond had eased in Severus' chest when Harry had finally allowed Granger and Weasley to catch up with him. Severus knew when to leave well enough alone and attended the usual post Task feast with a bland expression while the rest of the school worked itself into a froth over what the next task could possibly be and how the final standings would affect the outcome of the Cup.

Hufflepuff were immensely proud of their Champion and Ravenclaw were only slightly quieter than them. Gryffindor was subdued – possibly due to the absence of _their_ Champion, but as Severus was so calm, Minerva was not at all worried by his absence. She had doubtless noticed that Granger and Weasley were also absent and was putting two and two together. Albus canted a few questioning looks his way, but as he'd not allowed meddling from the Old Coot of Hogwarts since he'd found himself in this situation, Severus wasn't about to give in now.

At the end of the Feast, he saw his House off to bed with a stern eye and a solemn face. Once he was sure they would remain in their dorms for the night, he set the wards and headed for his own parlour and the door that led to Harry's nest. A touch on the wards showed that Granger and Weasley were still there and he hesitated for a moment, before deciding to go ahead with this long overdue confrontation. While he was pleased that Harry was sure enough in the Bond to withstand them being at odds with each other, he was not willing to allow the rift to grow into something permanent.

The Trio were seated decorously enough that he couldn't fault them, though Harry's expression took on a wary edge, much as it had all through classes these last few weeks.

"Mr Weasley, Miss Granger. You're out of bounds, after hours again," Severus announced lightly, "You'd best not allow a teacher to catch you out. Come, you can use the Floo. Harry, if you'd escort your guests to the fireplace?"

If he hadn't been trying to mend bridges with his Ward he'd have laughed at the expressions on the faces of the teens in front of him. Weasley in particular looked as if he'd strained something trying to understand what he meant and Granger appeared to be waiting for the other shoe to drop. Harry, though… Harry looked at him carefully and then nodded, getting up and ushering his friends towards the door that led to the parlour.

Pleased that his Ward still attained the ability to see when he was being serious as opposed to when he was being sarcastic, Snape followed along behind, summoning the Floo powder and throwing it into the fireplace, muttering the spells to unlock the wards and send the two Gryffindors to their Tower. Harry made no attempt to follow them, which meant he'd at least resigned himself to conversing with Severus over his little… outburst.

"Sit down, my Ward," Severus murmured once they were gone, "Were you injured in your retrieval of Weasley and Delacour from the lake?"

"No sir," Harry sat in 'his' chair, "Thank you for asking."

Severus sighed. Formality was not what he wanted. If they were to balance their relationship once and for all, then they needed to be frank and honest with each other – within the bounds of the proprieties of course. To that end…

"Harry, I do not wish us to be at odds. You levelled several accusations at me the last time we conversed. I wish us to discuss them," Severus began, "Therefore, for this evening only, I am suspending my requirement of decorum in conversation in order to address this problem. I believe that you are mature enough to hold a conversation with me over your grievances – this is your chance to air them without fear of reprisal or damage to our Bond."

Severus was gratified to see that Harry took the time to marshal his thoughts instead of leaping straight into a shouting match. The calmer they were, the better this conversation would go and Severus was aware that as the adult he would be the one called upon to control his not inconsiderable temper in the coming confrontation.

"I want to get to know my Godfather and Remus," Harry began the discussion with a flat statement, "Without you interfering or trying to come between us."

"That is an acceptable demand," he might have to control his temper, but that didn't mean he'd allow the brat to walk all over him, "And one that I will agree to, provided…"

Harry huffed impatiently, but Severus didn't let it discourage him.

"… that you wait until the school year is over. I will make arrangements for the three of you to spend time together over the summer holidays, in a secure location and without my presence. I make no secret of my dislike for Sirius Black, but understand me, Harry; there is _good reason_ for our enmity. Do not believe your godfather to be innocent in this – I certainly am not. I know that you wish to see him at once, however it would not be good for _him_ to be put in the public eye, and I cannot guarantee that your visit would go unnoticed, given the amount of attention being paid to you by the outside world – especially the attempts of Rita Skeeter to speak to you."

"Who?" Harry asked, distracted, as Severus knew he would be, "Isn't that some reporter from the Daily Prophet? She spoke to all of the Champions when we were first chosen."

"And she has since attempted to ambush you into an interview no less than eight times," Severus sighed, "I had to put in place some extensive Wards to prevent that from happening."

"Oh," Harry mulled that over, "I didn't realise…"

"Nor were you meant to," Severus replied, "As your Guardian, it is my duty to prevent you from coming into contact with such as she."

"So now you're controlling who I speak to as well as _how_ I speak?" Harry scowled as Severus knew he would, "Why can't I speak as I like? Why can't I speak to _who_ I like?"

"That is two separate issues. As to the first, you may of course speak how you like, within the boundaries of common manners," Severus stated, "My instruction in the more formal speech patterns of our society was only intended to give you another weapon to deal with those that consider you to be a saviour of Wizard-kind. I expected you to speak as you wished among your friends – the requirement for formal speech in my presence was intended to aid you in mastering it. If you wish to abandon that instruction, then that is your choice – provided you are polite, you may speak as you wish."

"You mean that?" the question was insulting, if understandable. The Muggles that had raised him had made several decrees that they had rescinded as and when it suited them, without prior warning. Harry needed to know that his Guardian was sincere and steadfast in that sincerity.

"I do: furthermore I _promise_ that you may speak as you wish in my presence and in public, with one rider… that you remain polite. If I believe that you are being impolite I will correct you, as would any parent correct their child," Severus waited to see if Harry grasped the import of that last statement – from the shocked expression that crawled over the boy's face it was readily apparent that he had.

"But… you're _not_ my dad!" Harry spluttered, "James Potter is!"

"I am your _Guardian_," Severus replied firmly, "That means that I stand in the place of your mother and father. While I have no wish to replace James and Lily Potter in your heart, I am considered by Magic herself to be your parent. Were our Bond made public, all of the Wizarding world would see me in the same light."

"Wait, you _adopted me_?" Harry spluttered, "I thought that being my Guardian just meant you had to supervise me until I was of age."

"No, Harry. In Muggle terms, I adopted you," Severus replied, "Or perhaps you missed the full import of the statement that precipitated this argument? I do not care about the wishes of others in your life, I care about _you_."

Harry started at the words, said so plainly that they couldn't be misconstrued. Severus was pleased that his Ward once more chose to sit and think about what had been said, instead of simply blurting out the first thing that came to his mind. He had at least learned that when it came to dealing with Severus, a well considered argument held more weight than verbal… flailing.

"But you _hated_ me," Harry shook his head, "All through first and second year… and you said you didn't want to be made my Guardian."

"Thank you," Severus bowed his head, pleased to hear the past tense. Unconsciously at least, Harry knew that hatred played no part in their bond. "Although, hate is a strong word. I was not best pleased to see a pale imitation of a childhood enemy in my classroom. My treatment of you was… inappropriate to the classroom, founded as it was in bitter memory. Also, I was frustrated that you were wasting your intelligence on frivolous distractions – you have it within you to be an excellent scholar, Harry, as the improvement in your marks has shown. You are also not mistaken that I was not… enamoured of the idea of becoming your Guardian. That dismay was based upon a false image I held of you. As our time together has progressed, I have come to realise that your actions were those of a child struggling with tasks and responsibilities you were ill-prepared for."

"It wasn't my _fault_!" the outburst had a tinge of anguish to it that touched even Severus. He leaned forward, putting a hand lightly on Harry's knee.

"No, it was ours. It was the adults around you who let you down, Harry. You have nothing to be ashamed of in your actions," Severus said quietly, "If you wish it, I will allow a Legilimency link to prove my sincerity in this matter."

"No," Harry shook his head, eyes wide, "No, I believe you. The _Bond_ believes you, can't you feel it?"

He could – the final release of the tension that had been marring their Bond was a welcome relief. He had no doubt that they'd be at odds over something new soon enough, after all, neither of them were known for their easy going natures, but for now the Bond was in perfect harmony.

Severus nodded and sat back, allowing his Ward to bask in the acceptance and peace the Bond was finally allowed to offer him.

0o0o0o0


	23. Chapter 23

0o0o0o0

Things continued apace. The term progressed, one day after another, as all terms do, with the final task looming over the Champions and their families. Harry came to Severus a week before half term and informed his Guardian that he had completed the course of studies that Severus had outlined for him and could take his OWL's in Defence Against the Dark Arts whenever his Guardian was pleased to make the arrangements.

They very nearly quarrelled over it. Severus felt that the boy was too late to take the exams early and would be better off taking it with the other fifth years, which Harry took as a slight against his abilities to study unsupervised. Severus explained the political ramifications of taking the OWL only weeks before they were due to be held; explained that he was not doubting Harry's study had been thorough and detailed; explained also that he wished to give Harry the best advice he could offer as an adult in the society Harry was trying to integrate into and finally won the day with that argument. Since his Ward had come to realise that the Guardians Bond was equivalent to adoption in Muggle society, the brat had been more willing to listen to what he said and think about it before disputing it.

Severus also insisted that Harry take the end of year tests with the rest of his class mates – not wanting any gaps in his Ward's academic record that could later be used against him. While the teachers could and did assess their students over and above the final tests of the year, Severus knew full well that gaps in records made for weaknesses in background checks that could later be exploited into political fodder. Once again, Harry was not best pleased until he realised that the spells he was learning could be used offensively as well as defensively.

Severus had stolen an afternoon for them to descend to the Chamber of Secrets, where he had proceeded to show his Ward how to use a variety of commonplace spells to disarm, disable or discombobulate his opponents. They'd spent a very active afternoon duelling each other informally. Severus knew full well that in a real battle the rules of Duelling did not apply – the artificial give-and-take of the spell platforms had no resemblance to fighting an opponent who truly wished you harm and Harry was going to know the _real_ world.

He discovered that once it had been pointed out to him, his Ward was very adept at combining spells in battle with unusual and hard to predict effects. Severus had needed to change his robes once they were done – the old ones bound for the dustbin, irrevocably altered beyond repair. Harry had been concerned that his Guardian was displeased – Severus had disabused him of that notion quickly. Though he didn't expect Harry to understand, he was pleased that the boy had grasped the idea he'd been trying to teach so quickly, despite the physical discomfort that had been caused.

That was the last period of privacy they had together. Moody seemed to be stalking the brat through the corridors, though Harry had confirmed that he continued to sit at the back of the class and keep his head down. Moody had tried hauling him up for demonstrations of the spells they'd been instructed in, but once Harry had demonstrated stiffly to Moody's satisfaction he had retired to his usual place at the back of class.

When he mentioned his reservations to Albus, the Old Coot merely waved them aside with an annoying twinkle in his eye, along with several unwarranted comments about Severus' ability as a Guardian exceeding expectations. He was no longer a snot nosed teen, seeking the approval of his Headmaster, so the comments put him in a foul mood that he chose to work off by brewing several rather difficult healing potions simultaneously.

Karkaroff also appeared to have turned into a stalker – though the wretch was stalking _him_ and not Harry. Severus finally allowed the man to 'corner' him and was disgusted to see the old Dark Mark on Karkaroff's arm flaring brightly for all to see. The Dark Lord was indeed in England if the Mark was so active, but Severus' Mark had showed no activity at all. Indeed, he spent almost an hour in the Headmaster's office with Albus in an attempt to locate the cursed thing on his own arm, to no avail.

"The connection has been severed, Severus," Albus frowned, "Something that we both concluded was impossible."

"Potter," Severus growled, "It must be him. There is no other explanation – the impossible and the unlikely seem to follow the brat around."

"Has he had any further dreams?" Albus inquired, peering over his glasses. Severus shook his head, his mind whirring as he dissected the last two years; seeking a time that Potter would have had an opportunity to break the cursed Mark loose.

"His occlumency is much improved – we have succeeded in making his mind relatively secure while he sleeps," Severus muttered absently, "Though he has yet to resist an active probe directed against him in deliberate attack. I believe he was susceptible to the dreams when he slept because his mind was wandering. Intuites are well known for their less disciplined control of the mind arts… ah, of course. He cleansed me of the Dark Mark when he was battling the Dementors, Albus."

Severus sat back, pleased at his deduction, and Albus frowned slightly.

"The patronus spell is not a cleansing ritual, Severus," the Headmaster reminded him, and Severus rolled his eyes impatiently.

"It was Pure Light that accompanied that spell, Headmaster, you yourself said that. The light is incredibly difficult to generate, except in an elaborate ritual that takes years to prepare. Harry generated it as a by-product of his very soul: that was your conclusion, was it not? Pure Light would have been more than enough to sever the link in the Mark, rendering it useless," the Potions Master folded his arms: arms that no longer bore evidence of his fatal mistake in his younger years, thanks to Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Confound-His-Guardian, "He would not have been aware of the Mark, just that there was something nearby that was harmful to us both."

"I see," Albus thought it over for a long moment and then sat back with a sigh, "As you are the resident expert in all things Harry at the moment, it is difficult to argue with your premise."

That had never stopped Albus before, but he _was_ offering Severus a distinctly paternal twinkle over the top of his glasses. Not wanting to encourage the old man any further, Severus merely nodded acknowledgement and took his leave, citing the need to supervise detentions.

As the mixed group of students in front of him strove in silence to pickle a variety of the most messy and malodorous ingredients he had to hand, Severus thought about the freedom that had suddenly been offered to him.

0o0o0o0

The usual end of year tests came and went, with the usual stresses and hysteria. Severus had to admit to a feeling of pride when Harry's instructors reported that his Ward had insisted on taking the tests with his peers, despite Albus' foolish decision to let the Champions miss the tests. Harry took his OWL in Defence Against the Dark Arts, to the displeasure of both Albus and Moody. Severus didn't say it, but he was as anxious as his Ward over the outcome of that test. Summer couldn't come too soon as far as he was concerned, though Harry would be allowed to re-take the test if his mark was not acceptable. For Potter's sake, Severus hoped that would not be necessary – the boy had been so sure he was ready to take the test and proud of his self charted studies.

On the day of the Third Task, the Champions were permitted a visit by their parents. The Diggory's both came of course, as did Krum's father and Delacour's parents.

As far as the rest of the Wizarding world was concerned, Harry Potter was an orphan and therefore had no parents to visit him on this day. Severus had spent quite some time thinking this matter over. With the removal of the Dark Mark, he had no chance of continuing in his role of spy for the Order: in fact he had no way of anticipating the Dark Lord's summons. There was no reason to continue to conceal his status as Guardian to the Boy Who Lived… unless that was what Harry himself wanted.

Naturally, he hadn't had a chance to speak to Harry on this matter. He knew the brat hadn't hesitated to tell his friends about the change in their relationship, but that was a very different thing to telling their world about it. They hadn't discussed it, as Severus had not told Harry about his former status as a Death Eater, or Spy. He wasn't sure how the brat would take the news that Severus had once allied himself with the Dark Lord and wasn't willing to rupture their relationship so close to the third task. Therefore any explanation as to why it was suddenly acceptable to announce his Guardianship of Potter would need to be plausible.

In the end, the brat made the decision for the both of them, arriving in his front parlour via the 'nest' just after breakfast. Harry gave that awkwardly hopeful smile that Severus saw all too rarely and it wasn't in him to deny the boy. He waved Harry towards the bookcase and then stepped into his bedroom, calling Dizzy to him and ordering lunch in his rooms.

They spent the morning in quiet companionship, reading and grading essays respectively. In the afternoon, Harry accompanied Severus to the summer lab and Severus brewed a few healing potions with the brats help. Severus slipped naturally into his role as a teacher, lecturing the boy on several of the ingredient combinations, which turned into a give and take discussion. Harry was quieter than usual, the Third Task weighing on his mind.

There was so much that Severus wanted to say, but was unable to formulate into clear sentences – and he hated groping for words. He kept his hand on Harry's shoulder as they walked to the Great Hall for dinner that evening, squeezing it gently before releasing the brat to sit with his House.

He had no appetite that evening at all. Neither did Minerva.

0o0o0o0


	24. Chapter 24

**Harry**

The day of the Third Task, Harry sought Severus' company. Partly to escape the buzz and hype of the castle as the students wound up to the evening's 'entertainment', but also to avoid those who would pity him for not having a parent to go to that day. Severus let him read quietly in the morning, and in the afternoon they went to the summer lab and brewed healing potions. Harry hoped he wouldn't need any of them by the end of the task.

He tried not to compare the afternoon spent with Snape brewing potions with an afternoon spent with James Potter, working with his father some project.

The most astonishing thing of all though, was as they walked to the Great Hall for dinner, Severus insisted on putting his hand on Harry's shoulder as they walked. Harry went to sit with Ron and Hermione with a warm sense of not being alone at all, which was astonishing considering that it was Snape that made him feel that way. Ron and Hermione gave him anxious looks as he sat between them and he grinned at them in reassurance.

None of them ate much: Hermione insisted on quizzing Harry on spells as if he was heading for a test and Ron insisted on talking about Quidditch to try and distract them all.

"I'll see you after the Task," Harry tried to sound confident as the Champions were called away to get ready while the school and spectators went to the Quidditch pitch were the last task was to take place. A glance up at the staff table showed that Severus was watching him closely. Harry offered his Guardian a slight bow, received a regal nod of the head in return and headed with Cedric to the changing rooms.

At first, the maze wasn't so bad. He spent some time trying to find his way through the green hedges, avoided several menacing shadows and kept an eye out for the other contestants. Finding Krum under the influence of _Imperio _ was a real shock – as was finding Fleur on the wrong end of Krum's wand. The Sphinx was a welcome change of pace after all that: it was a chance to use his brain and not his wand.

Then there was the fight with the spider to save Cedric. Harry thought he'd torn something in his ankle by the time it was all over, and though he was disappointed that he wouldn't be the one to win the Cup, at least it was Hogwarts that would be Champion, not one of the other schools. He was more than a little shocked that Cedric would offer to let him win and hoped that his Guardian wouldn't mind too much if he shared the win with Cedric instead of taking the Cup for himself.

"On the count of three then?" Cedric grinned at him across the trophy and Harry grinned back, steadying himself on the pedestal and raising a hand.

"One, two, three," Cedric counted it off and they grasped the handles together. A moment later that familiar hooking sensation wrenched through his gut and the maze was torn away, replaced with a cemetery. Harry spent a few moments huddled on the ground, grinding his teeth in an effort to master the pain flooding his ankle while Cedric looked around.

"Wands out, do you think?" Cedric suggested and Harry nodded, pushing himself to his feet and turning on the spot to try and work out where they were. A familiar name leapt out at him and he blanched for a moment, his heart thundering in his chest. Tom Riddle – that was Voldemort's name.

"Cedric," Harry murmured, but was interrupted by movement in the shadows. His scar roared to life and Harry let his instincts rise to the fore, his hearing singling out the most important sentence.

"Kill the spare!"

The shrill command had Cedric paling, as if realising that they were no longer taking part in the Tournament, but Harry was already raising his hand, allowing his will to control his magic for a moment and hoping like hell that it paid off. In the grass, the forgotten trophy twitched unseen by the others.

"Avada…"

The trophy zoomed up and smacked solidly into Cedric's back, the portkey activating instantly, whisking the other boy away. Harry was left alone with the shadowy figure and its bundle.

"… kedavra!" the sick green light shot through where Cedric had been only seconds before, impacting with a stunted tree that promptly withered and turned to ash. The thing in the rags screamed in anger and ropes flew from the other mans wand, securing Harry to the gravestone with Tom Riddle on it.

"Wormtail," the thing in the rags whined and Harry struggled as his father's betrayer began to set up for a ritual. Harry strained and cursed through the blood gathering, the bone dust and the sacrifice of Wormtail's hand, his mind whirling as he tried to find a way free.

Panic had overwhelmed him by the time the thing was dropped into the stone cauldron and Harry retched as the taints of Dark Magic stained the air, coating his airways and trying to smother him. He tried to master himself, to gain control of enough of his magic to get free, or to at the very least activate the portkey he still wore around his neck, but nothing he did worked.

Then Voldemort himself was rising from the depths of the cauldron and Harry knew that nothing would ever be the same again.

0o0o0o0


	25. Chapter 25

**Snape**

To say that he was concerned when his Ward and Diggory disappeared from the maze – because Severus had, of course, found a vantage point that would let him keep track of such things – was akin to saying that a Basilisk was a bit poisonous. The other parents – Diggory's especially – had reacted poorly to this turn of events and had beleaguered him with questions as to what was happening. Just as he was considering drawing his wand – and if pressed he would insist that he had only _considered_ it – there was the distinctive sound of a port key discharging and Cedric Diggory tumbled down onto the grass like a rag doll thrown by a tempestuous wind.

"Cedric!" the boy's father shouted, and the boy stirred, clutching his head and looking wildly around for his wand even as he staggered to his feet. Despite the fact that he was by no means in the front row, Severus managed to beat everyone to the Hufflepuff, though he'd barged a few people aside to do so. The Bond was screaming _danger_ and _pain_ – he needed to know what was happening _now_.

"The killing curse!" Diggory's first words were not calculated to inspire calm or comfort, "The cup was a port key and it took us to a graveyard and someone said to kill the spare and they started to say the _**killing curse**__ but Harry summoned the cup and it hit me and brought me back and __**he's all alone with the man and the killing curse!"**_

The crowd were unfortunately silent enough to hear the hysterical rush of words – the student in front of him had probably never believed that the curse would be aimed at him or even someone standing close to him – and the ensuing roar of outrage and terror was enough to deafen the Giant Squid. Severus felt as if his blood had run cold – because there was no guarantee that Harry would survive another encounter with the killing curse, no matter who was casting it. He whirled; looking for the Headmaster, only to find the old man embroiled with the other school Heads, as well as several of his own teachers. There would be no help from that quarter and so Severus cast a distraction spell and disapparated at once, giving in to the pull of the Bond. He was forced to apparate several times over short distances in order to locate his Ward, each disappear-reappear bringing them closer and closer together until he was certain he knew where Harry was and made his final jump.

His years as a spy stood him in good stead. He arrived almost twenty yards away from his Ward, hidden in the shadows by his dark teaching robes and a very clever spell that he'd erected through force of habit.

Harry was screaming.

The sound cut through him like a blade and it took every ounce of his not inconsiderable self control to stay in place and evaluate the situation instead of rushing forward like a Gryffindor. His Ward was tied to a gravestone and Voldemort himself was standing over him, one reptile-like finger pressed to the lightning bolt scar. Harry was writhing within his bonds, trying to get away from the finger that apparently had him transfixed in place.

For a moment, it was all Severus could do to hold back on his desire to blast his former master away from his Ward. His world was red with wanting it and he swayed on the spot, his body and mind at war with each other. He was no match for the Dark Lord when it came to duelling, and to sacrifice the element of surprise so foolishly would be to sign their death warrants.

There was a rustle in the undergrowth and Severus sent a quick spell after it, pleased when it hit. Nagini convulsed once and then was still, which cleared the way for Severus to get closer without being detected. It was one of his most jealously guarded secrets, his ability to transform as an animagus. He was particularly proud of his snake form and had been pleased that Harry had accepted him as an associate in both cat and human form. He was fairly certain that Harry had yet to realise that his friend the snake was actually his Guardian, but that was a revelation for another time.

In snake form it was harder to discern what was happening in the clearing. By the time he arrived at Harry's location, most of the remaining Death Eaters had arrived. He was surprised to see Wormtail there – surely the other man had been sentenced to Azkaban last year – but had no time to spare on speculation. Harry was released from his bonds by the Dark Lord himself, but not before Severus had nudged his Ward's hands, alerting him that an ally was near.

Though he would never have admitted it out loud, Severus was very proud of the way his Ward comported himself in the following duel. His resistance to the Dark Lords Imperio spell was impressive in and of itself, but to take his slender knowledge and put it against the Darkest Wizard of their time with such dignity… Severus could not have asked for more. Certainly his Ward was afraid, but to step from cover and attempt to disarm his opponent at the very last was an act so courageous that even Severus was impressed.

He had not expected what came next. The spell web was priori incantum, of course, and Harry showed his pure strength in forcing Voldemort's wand to disgorge its last spells. He had never expected to see Lily Potter again, nor for her to glance in his direction even as she comforted her son. He raised himself briefly from the grass and met that glance with all the determination and promise he could muster, and part of him was relieved when she nodded her acceptance of his role in her son's life.

Then the spell broke and Harry was spinning away, ducking behind a grave marker and changing into Caecus, scampering directly to Severus' side. Even in cat form, his Ward was able to show his fear and relief, but Severus didn't waste time on acknowledging that now. He ushered Harry along in the long grass, urging him silently away from the Death Eaters that were even now suffering the thwarted wrath of the Dark Lord.

Only once they were far enough away for Severus to change back into his normal shape, did he stop the young cat that was darting beside him. In one swift move he had Caecus folded into his arms and was disapparating away from the graveyard, heading for the one place outside of Hogwarts that his Ward would be safe for a short time.

0o0o0o0

Remus Lupin's cottage was in deepest Dartmoor, a wild, windy place with bogs and mists galore. Caecus was shivering in his arms as the door to the rambling cottage burst open and Sirius Black hurried out to see who had intruded on their wild peace.

"Snape!" the former convict stumbled to a halt in shock, "What… where's Harry?"

"Here," Severus replied, "He's in shock – let us in, would you?"

They couldn't cross the werewolf's security wards unless invited and Severus had no desire to expose his Ward to further displays of magic at this time. Harry had been bleeding from a wound in his arm – now his front leg – for far too long and was too still for Severus' liking.

"Come in," Remus called from the doorway, and Severus did so at once, glad to be in the warm candlelight with his Ward. While Black stirred the fire up and pulled a chair closer to it, Remus fetched blankets and a chest filled with potions and bandages – as a werewolf he would be well stocked in both for his moontime.

Caecus did not want to be coaxed from Severus' arms, and the potions master was pleased that Black did not insist. Remus spent some time carefully coaxing the injured leg out and then treated it with deft efficiency, healing the cut with several strong potions and a salve that Severus had brewed himself. Only when that was done did the two men press for details.

"We listened on the Wizarding Wireless of course, because they were going to announce the outcome – so when they said that something had gone wrong we knew it was Harry…" Black's voice was rough but not accusing, "You've always been a trouble magnet, haven't you kiddo?"

Caecus made a disgruntled noise and poked his head out of Severus' arms to glare at his godfather, before retreating with all the ruffled dignity of a cat. Remus chuckled and even Black grinned, apparently pleased that the boy was well enough to be annoyed with him.

"The Dark Lord has risen once more," Severus did not like to break their smiles, but felt it important that the knowledge be spread, "Harry was forced into a Dark Rite by none other than your former classmate, Wormtail."

"He went to Azkaban, though! I thought he was in a special cell!" Black protested at once.

"He must have had help to escape," Remus muttered at once, "We need to alert Albus, and possibly Shaklebolt."

"If we do that, the Headmaster will want to see Harry," Black replied, "Which means he'll have to be human and ready to discuss whatever happened. I'm not going to force him out of Form and neither will Severus."

"Correct," Severus replied, more than a little astonished to be agreeing with the mutt, let alone doing so on the werewolf's hearth, "Shacklebolt can be informed first – provided we use the old ways – and someone needs to check on Azkaban. I want to know how Pettigrew escaped."

"Severus, why delay informing the Headmaster that Harry is safe?" Lupin frowned, his instincts obviously aroused. Severus sighed – he hadn't any proof of what he was about to say, which meant they were headed for an argument at least. Harry needed peace – and even more importantly – Harry needed to know that he was safe.

As he hesitated there was a movement in his arms and Severus glanced down to wide green eyes. He stroked the unruly fur of his Ward gently, watching as realisation dawned in those eyes. Caecus sighed and pulled gently away, hopping down to the floor and turning back into Harry Potter. The boy swayed for a moment and Severus put his hands out, surprised when the teen collapsed back onto his knees, wrapping his arms around Severus chest and shivering against him.

"There's a spy at Hogwarts, isn't there," Harry muttered, then turned his head so his next words would be private, "I'm sorry, sir. I tried… he was just too strong…"

"Hush, boy," Severus chided gently, tightening his hold on the boy, "You've done very well indeed. None of this is your fault."

"Of course. No one would have been able to get onto school grounds to mess about with the Cup – security is too good. They had to be there already," Lupin muttered, "One of the Head's of the other school or a teacher from Hogwarts."

"Mad Eye would have seen through any disguise or spell," Black contested that statement, "You know he would."

"Which means it was Moody all along," Harry replied, lifting his head from Severus' shoulder. The Guardian tightened his grip a little to keep his Ward in place and nodded his agreement.

"Harry is correct," Severus murmured, "His many eccentricities and paranoia's are legion, which would allow an impostor to explain away any behaviour that was suspicious. In fact, one of his pre-existing quirks makes him a prime candidate for replacement."

"The flask… the impostor is using polyjuice potion," Harry realised, animation returning to his face. He sat up straighter against Severus, who calculated that the child would be ready to be out of his embrace within the next few minutes.

"Which means that Alastor is still alive somewhere. You can't use polyjuice with a dead body," Remus murmured, "Did he bring his trunk to the school with him Severus?"

"He did," Severus confirmed, "It is likely that the real Moody is incarcerated in his own trunk."

Severus didn't bother to hide his disdain for someone who would allow themselves to be captured and locked up like that. Harry shot him an uncertain look, but accepted his nod of reassurance and got up off his knees, moving instead to hug his dogfather and the wolf. Severus allowed them to fuss over his Ward for a few moments, making use of the Floo system to contact Shacklebolt instead, warning him about the rise of the Dark Lord and sending the man to Azkaban to check on the Rat. Business completed he turned to watch Harry accept some of Lupin's tea and lean comfortably against Black's encircling arm. He didn't miss the frequent glances his Ward sent his way, as if checking that he was still nearby. The Bond hummed between them, still agitated by the events of this evening and Severus made a note to spend some time in private discussion with his Ward.

For now, he would have to formulate a plan to catch the spy without further endangering his Ward, damaging the schools reputation and preventing a major incident. He had a fair idea that his cover was blown as far as his relationship with Harry Potter was concerned, which meant that his Ward may shortly be forced to choose between acknowledging their Bond to the public or denying it. Even now, Severus had no sure indication which decision Harry would make.

0o0o0o0

As they apparated onto Hogwarts grounds, Severus reached out to steady his Ward. Harry looked a little shaken, but no worse than he had in Remus' cottage. He gave his Guardian a grimace, but allowed Severus to draw him to his side and lead him towards the Quiddicth pitch. The crowd was still there, as were Aurors and various officials.

"Snape!" Moody barked, "You got him?"

"Yes," Severus snapped in reply, "He's in need of attention."

"Best not to take him down there, then," Moody replied, "It's a regular three ring circus. Go get Albus from the centre of it and I'll take the boy up to the Hospital Wing."

Severus hesitated for a moment, just long enough for the ex-auror to pluck Harry from Severus' side. Harry went without complaint, allowing the battle scarred Wizard to take his arm and usher him with kind words towards the castle. Severus watched for a moment and then turned, storming towards the Headmaster, beleaguered in front of the maze by an assortment of Ministry officials, including Fudge and several key Aurors.

"Headmaster!" Severus barked over the noise, his tone calculated to catch enough people's attention and silence the majority of them. The noise of the restless crowd hushed too, waiting to hear his noise.

"I have located Potter – Moody is taking him to the Hospital Wing," Severus announced and watched in satisfaction as Dumbledore's eyes narrowed in suspicion. He made a subtle gesture and froze Fudge with a look when the Minister launched himself in Severus direction, babbling questions. Rita Skeeter was also there, her poisonous pen scribbling furiously as she devoured the drama in front of her and reduced it to the level of a scandal.

"Where was he, Severus?" Albus managed to sound placid, as if Harry had wandered off out of bounds innocently. Severus flared his nostrils in well restrained rage. He hadn't wanted his Ward to compete in this tournament, had been forced to stand mostly on the sidelines and watch the boy struggle alone for a year and now had the feeling that certain things were about to be swept under the rug.

"Being tortured in a Dark Rite by He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named," Severus retorted ignoring the gasps and cries around him. Fudge looked about to soil himself in fear, and Rita Skeeter in excitement.

"Nonsense," Fudge quavered, "Headmaster, that is nonsense! I insist on speaking to Mr Potter immediately!"

As that played into Severus' plans quite nicely he stepped to one side, indicating that the Minister should go first. He also made a subtle signal to two of the Aurors – people he knew could be trusted – and followed the small crowd which included Dumbledore and Skeeter as well as the Minister and the Aurors up to the castle.

Madam Pomfrey was still waiting for Harry's arrival.

She hadn't even known that he'd returned to the castle, let alone seen him in the company of Alastor Moody. Cedric Diggory was there, potioned to sleep, with his anxious parents sitting by his bed. The Minister immediately started creating a fuss, accusing her and Severus both of lying until Auror Tonks suggested they check Moody's room.

"If Master Potter took ill on the way it's possible that Moody would have gone to his own rooms. We're taught a lot of emergency healing techniques," she added, her hair a vibrant yellow colour. While Severus found her need for self expression through her talent tedious, she did have a useful knack of playing into his plans.

Moody's office was not far from the Hospital Wing and Severus judged that enough time had passed for their ruse to have worked.

Sure enough, they burst into the office in time to see Moody pointing his wand at Potter, who was cowering at bay near Moody's infamous trunk. Their arrival was enough of a distraction to distract the ex-auror long enough for Harry to straighten and snap off a sharp incarceration spell, knocking Moody backwards into his chair and strapping him there with a wicked tangle of chains, ropes and leather.

"How did he… that's an Auror's spell!" Tonks spluttered as she picked up Moody's wand.

"I'm not Harry," Harry replied smugly, folding his arms, "I'm his godfather, Sirius Black, under polyjuice potion to capture whoever _that_ is, also under polyjuice potion."

Muggles had a saying: 'all over bar the shouting'. As Severus moved to investigate the infamous trunk, he had a sense that saying applied very well here.

0o0o0o0

AN – almost done now! Will Harry acknowledge Snape as his guardian? Will we find out how Wormtail freed himself from Azkaban? Will the author ever get this finished?


	26. Chapter 26

**Harry**

He wasn't too keen to re-enter Hogwarts. Although he knew that Snape was there, and Ron and Hermione too, he also knew that there would be questions that needed answering. He wasn't too keen on going over the ritual in the graveyard, or the duel with Voldemort – one sided though it had been. He didn't want to reveal how terrified he'd been, how scared he still was.

Remus put an arm around his shoulders gently, giving him a cautious squeeze. Harry looked up at one of his father's best friends, searching the lined face above him.

"Do you think dad would be mad that Severus is my Guardian?" he didn't know where the question came from, and from the surprised look on Remus' face, the issue had not occurred to the former professor either.

"No, Harry," Remus said softly, "He'd be glad that you have someone to trust – someone who is there when you need it. Sirius was locked up – I was in no fit state – I think your mum and dad would be very pleased that you finally have what you need. I know that I am."

"I was proud of Sirius," Harry confessed, his mind jumping topics, "He agreed to Severus' plan without arguing – though he did have a few questions."

"I was proud too," Remus grinned, "They were such enemies once – and while they may never be good friends now, I'm glad to see that they've finally found something they agree on."

Harry nodded and took a deep breath. As if reading that he was ready to move on, Remus stepped forward, his arm still around Harry's shoulders. This felt good too – although he knew his Guardian was cautious of the disease that Remus carried, Harry had never had any qualms about being near the Marauder that had helped build his map of Hogwarts.

They walked into the entrance hall, the grand staircase in front of them. People were milling around in confusion, a jumble of voices echoing in Harry's ears. Someone spotted him and cried his name and in moments there was a moment of pause before they all rushed towards him.

Before the oncoming crowd could reach them, there was an enormous echoing bang. Everyone froze in place and turned to look for the source. There on the grand staircase was Severus Snape, and behind him Sirius Black and the Headmaster, the Minister of Magic, Rita Skeeter and two Aurors escorting a manacled young man with wild eyes and Mad Eye Moody's coat on. Snape stepped forward in the silence and the crowd parted like water before him as he strode towards Harry.

Harry ducked out from under Remus' sheltering arm and hurried towards his Guardian, anxieties making him check for injuries, hidden or otherwise. He intended to stop at a decorous distance away, to not give away the secret of their Bond despite the fact that he wasn't ashamed, but the point was a moot one as Snape himself reached out and drew him into a light embrace.

"Are you well, my Ward?" the words were clear in the silence, untainted with the tension in the frame that Harry was leaning against. Snape was evidently unsure how Harry would react to this public declaration and was bracing himself for the backlash.

"Yes, my Guardian," Harry replied, wrapping his hands around the man and knotting one hand in the back of Snape's robes, "Are you? You weren't hurt were you?"

"I could not be hurt by one such as him," Snape's voice was easily lost in the chorus of exclamations and questions that were even now ringing around them. There was a camera flash somewhere and Harry jumped, still unsettled by everything that happened. He'd never had an adult to hug him when he was frightened before – Snape was still the epitome of anti-hug – but he'd take what he could get. Doubtless it was politically expedient to announce the guardianship now and Harry had learned not to defy his Guardian publicly.

"Good," Harry breathed, "What's going on?"

"We have much to discuss," Snape told him, "And a Minister to deal with. I'm afraid you'll have to endure for a little while longer – though I will of course insist that you go to Madam Pomfrey as soon as possible."

"I'm alright," Harry assured Snape staunchly. The Potions Master snorted lightly, shaking his head.

"If you could see yourself you would not believe that for an instant," his Guardian replied, "You need rest and calm, not fuss and excitement, and I'll see that you have it soon."

Snape never broke a promise, no matter what was happening in the rest of the world, so Harry nodded and reluctantly released his grip on his teacher's robes. He did feel cold and a little shaky, but he'd be able to manage for a while longer before he needed a rest.

"I demand to know what is going on!" Fudge bellowed over the noise, barging through the crowd to get to them. Harry took another step back, bumping into Remus, who steadied him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. Snape turned, putting himself between Harry and the Minister and for a moment Harry revelled in the protection. Sirius stepped around to the side, adding his hand to Harry's other shoulder and squeezing.

"You weren't hurt either, were you?" Harry asked quietly as Snape verbally took the Minister apart with surgical precision. Sirius chuckled and shook his head.

"The impostor didn't do me any harm," Sirius reassured him, "And that's a story and a half."

"Isn't that Bartimus' son?" Remus asked, "I thought he'd been sent to Azkaban."

"He escaped. His mother swapped places with him – she died in prison under polyjuice," Sirius' words sent a shiver down Harry's spine. Before he had a chance to think it through the Ministers voice intruded in the small bubble of peace that his Guardian and his father's friends had created for him.

"I will not wait, Snape! Young Mr Potter will tell us what has happened at once, or I'll take him into protective custody!" Fudge's shout made Harry flinch. Remus and Sirius tried to tighten their hands on his shoulders but Harry threw himself forward, determined not to let the Minister separate him from his Guardian.

"No!" Harry protested, "He's a good Guardian!"

"Harry," Snape laid a pale hand on his shoulder, with just the lightest pressure. Harry relaxed his fists and straightened under the touch, following the silent instruction to behave.

"Harry is in need of medical care and rest, Minister," Snape said in a cool voice, "However, there are certain events that need to be explained at once. Therefore I will allow my Ward to tell you what happened when he was abducted by a Port Key."

"Cedric and I got to the centre of the maze and the cup at the same time," Harry began at once, pre-empting another shout from the Minister, "Rather than battling for it, Cedric suggested we take the cup together, to make it a real Hogwarts victory."

He decided he didn't want to go over the argument that they'd had in the centre of the maze – his ankle was still throbbing hard, reminding him of the damage the spider thing had done – because it would seem like boasting.

"When the port key let go of us we landed in a graveyard – I'm not sure where it was, but it had a grave for Tom Marvolo Riddle," Harry shivered, remembering the fear that had hit him at the sight of that name, "Once I recognised it, I knew we were in danger."

"What is so special about that name?" Fudge scoffed, "I'll have no flights of fancy from you, young man!"

"Tom Riddle is the true name of Lord Vol-" Harry began but Snape's hand tightened in warning even as those around him exclaimed, "I mean, it's you-know-who's name. Anyway," Harry raised his voices over the exclamations, wanting to get this over with, "Cedric and I pulled our wands out just as someone appeared from under a crypt. It was Pettigrew – though I don't know how he got out of prison – and he was carrying something wrapped in cloth. A voice said to 'kill the spare' and I summoned the cup towards us. Cedric was standing between me and the cup, you see and I thought that if I could get the cup to him before the killing curse he'd be safe. I think it worked – he was gone before the curse flew, wasn't he?"

"Yes, Harry. Cedric arrived here safely, if somewhat shaken and alerted us to the danger," Dumbledore spoke up for the first time, "Your quick thinking saved him."

"Good," Harry sighed in relief. His head swum for a moment and he clenched his fists, not wanting to seem weak in front of all these people – especially Snape, who'd seen him cowering in the graveyard. In a tired voice he detailed the ritual and the horrific rise of Voldemort, ignoring the spluttering and attempts to deny his words from Fudge.

As embarrassing as it was, he added the details of his struggle with the Dark Lord in front of his assembled Death Eaters, the odd reaction their wands had to each other and his escape with Snape's help.

"And how did you know where he was, Snape?" Fudge pounced on that, obviously hoping to sully Snape's name by associating him with the Death Eaters.

"He's bonded to me as my Guardian," Harry replied before the older man could, "Professor Snape always knows how to find me in an emergency."

It was beginning to get very cold and dark, or at least that was Harry's impression. Snape's hand slid across his shoulders and drew him into the thin mans side. Harry leaned obediently, grateful for the warmth of the Potion Master's body. He turned his face into the dark robes and closed his eyes, willing to let the older man take charge once more. Harry knew he could trust him to do what was right: he had known that even before Voldemort had risen again.

Finally he had someone to rely on. It felt good.

0o0o0o0

**Epilogue**

"Severus is going to kill us," Sirius' fretted as he watched Remus wrap the herbs around Harry's wrist. Despite the pain the injury must have been causing him, his godson seemed content enough.

"Relax, Sirius. Snape knows I'm a trouble magnet," Harry replied, rolling his eyes, "I fell off my broom, not the astronomy tower. I wasn't even that high up."

"Yes, but _why_ did you fall off your broom? Because I sent the tickling hex your way," Sirius moaned. Remus chuckled and shook his head, tying the bandage off neatly.

"In which case, Severus is going to kill you, Padfoot. I'm an innocent bystander in all this," the werewolf shared a wicked grin with Harry, who laughed in response. Sirius was glad to hear it – his godson was more solemn than Sirius liked. A child Harry's age should be a lot more carefree than he was.

Not that Sirius blamed Harry for his solemnity. After all, the child was under constant threat from the Death Eaters, their twisted leader and the machinations of Fudge and Dumbledore. Though Sirius had been dismayed to discover that Snape had assumed Guardianship over Harry, the former convict could not deny that Snape did a thoroughly good job of it.

After Harry's initial statement in the front hall of Hogwarts, there had been much consternation and attempts to smear the boy's character. Had Cedric not been alive to back up what Harry said, things would have gone hard for the young Boy Who Lived. Harry had been at the end of his strength, and Snape had recognised that quickly, cutting off all further attempts at interrogation and ushering Harry away to Snape's own quarters. Madame Pomfrey had made a 'house call' to see to Harry and Sirius and Remus had stayed with the teen while Snape went off to do battle with the Minister.

It seemed that Pettigrew had escaped with the help of the incompetent Minister – who had unwittingly allowed Wormtail to ride out of the prison in the hem of his robes. That had done for Fudge's tenure as Minister, opening the way for Rufus Scrimgour and his militant philosophy. Death Eater activity was responded to with the harshest of penalties, which seemed to be keeping things quiet for now. No one with any sense was foolish enough to think that this would last.

Sirius was grateful for the lull before the storm. It had assisted him in persuading Snape to allow Harry to visit their cottage on the moors for a week during the summer holidays. They were isolated enough that the boy could ride his broom and mess about without having to worry about the press or other such nuisances finding him. He and Remus had chosen a week when the moon was at its weakest influence and Harry was having a ball exploring the moors and engaging Sirius in some one-on-one quidditch practice.

"You didn't have to call him, you know. I trust you too," Harry mentioned innocently. Sirius and Remus exchanged a look: if Severus found out that Harry had been hurt and he hadn't been informed there would be hell to pay.

Before Sirius could even begin to formulate the most tactful way to bring this up, there was a sharp crack outside. Moments later the front door banged open: Sirius was glad to see that Harry didn't so much as turn a hair at the noise or the sudden flurry of potions master that erupted into the room.

"Hallo sir," Harry smiled and held out his good hand, "Come and sit down. Tea?"

"Thank you Potter," Snape replied, running a keen eye over the boy and sitting beside him, "Let Black make it. The message said you were hurt."

"My wrist," Harry shrugged, "I was laughing and fell off my broom at a funny angle. Remus has wrapped it with some of the herbs you send for his moon time."

Severus took the wrist in question with such delicacy that Sirius felt a lump rise in his throat. Harry had been given very little care and attention in his young life and to see it now, from a man that had once been the greatest rival of James Potter was just short of a miracle.

Sirius got up and started the kettle, fishing out tea and the good cups. Behind him, Harry was telling his Guardian about the last few days, his tone bright and easy. Snape asked a few questions in a quiet tone, sparking another easy spate of chatter from Harry – albeit a spate of chatter that used correct grammar and slightly formal language. Sirius turned with the completed tea in his hands and stopped.

He had imagined that Snape would be impatient with his Wards chatter and although you wouldn't call his expression indulgent, it was clear that listening to and conversing with Harry was not the chore Sirius had expected the man to find it. He met Remus' eyes and smiled at the pleasure there. Harry had found someone to care for him at long last and while it wasn't someone that Sirius would have chosen personally…

All the things he had hated about Snape as a young teen – the boy's knowledge, his tenacity, his ability to turn a situation to his advantage – made him the perfect Guardian for young Harry Potter. And though Sirius knew from the glint in the glance Snape shot him there would be something to pay for this accident Harry had suffered, Sirius was glad that Snape was there to protect James' boy in the times ahead.

ENDS


End file.
